Once And For All
by whatserface
Summary: [ Salem's Lot ] Based on the TNT version. Following Mark's life from the night they fled the Lot, he meets up with an old friend again, but finds that she may just pull him back into the hunt afterall... summary sucks, COMPLETE
1. Detroit

Chapter One: Detroit

_"If flesh could crawl  
My skin would fall  
From off my bones  
And run away from here  
As far from God  
As heaven is wide  
As far from God  
As angels can fly…"_

- from "As Heaven Is Wide" by _Garbage_

**T**he world behind them was on fire. They had no choice but to go foreword, and foreword they went. On and on, for days and nights, they sped out of Salem's Lot like all hell was chasing them, and maybe it was...  
Two or three hours out of the Lot, Mark Petrie found his weariness catching up with him. Days of fear and torment, hidden beneath his skin, finally came to the surface, and he found his eyes becoming as heavy as stage curtains.  
He slept in the passenger seat beside Ben Mears, his friend and ally, for more time then he would know. When he finally came through again, the rising sun was burning red before his eyes.  
Fields of tall yellow grass, all up their tips covered in powdery white snow, lined either side of the road ahead of him. The sky was a blanket of cotton gray clouds above their heads, and there were dark trees sprinkled with snow far, far a head of them.  
"Ben?" Mark groaned, rolling his head to the side to look at the driver.  
"You okay?"  
"Yeah," he watched the orange light accentuate the stubble on the older man's face, his eyes rimmed with red and unblinking. "Where are we? This doesn't look like Saran Grove..."  
Mark figured that, if they'd driven up into the morning, that's where they'd been in or around. He knew these parks of Maine like the back of his hand...  
Ben shrugged. "You've been out for four days, Mark."  
"Four days?" Ben nodded. "Fuck," Mark rubbed his forehead, shutting his eyes tight. "So what happened? Where are we going?"  
"Detroit."  
"Why?"  
"Father Callahan. He survived..." Mark was sudden wide awake, giving Ben a look that said _you can't be serious_. Ben proceeded to explain that, a night or two ago, he'd stopped at a motel for a night, too tired to keep on driving. The desk man proceeded in idle chat, mention that a priest had stopped there the night before. When Ben had asked where he'd been heading, he'd told him the priest mentioned Detroit.  
Mark sighed, laying his head to the other side. Fuck... he'd thought it was over! But he didn't protest, didn't say a word... he knew it had to be done. They had to finish it... they couldn't leave any possibility that it could happen again.  
Even at his tender age, Mark was still willing to die if it meant killing every last one of them. They'd taken his family, his friends, everything... he would be all alone, if it weren't for Ben.  
Later on in the day, when things had calmed down, Ben sat him down in a quiet and still area, after purchasing a cheap dinner for the two of them, trying to make the last few dollars he had on him last, at least until Detroit.  
Ben found himself uncomfortably dancing around what he meant to say, confusing Mark... but before long, he began to catch on to what Ben was saying.  
Ben was offering to take care of Mark.  
Mark accepted the offer, graciously, and viewed Ben smile for the first time she's he'd been forced to drive a stake through Susan's heart. Ben vowed to legally adopt Mark, after they finished in Detroit, and could return to New York.  
They knew of the possibility, but neither of them knew it for sure...  
... Ben would never make it back to New York to adopt Mark.

**A** few days passed. Mark didn't know, or didn't care to count, just how many, before they found themselves approaching tall, silver buildings from twisting roller coasters of dead, gray roads. By evening, they were within this maze of metal, driving slowly through unfamiliar streets.  
They watched the street lights become animated, watched empty faces pass hurriedly through the icy air, and other brightly colored automobiles passing all around them. Before long, they realized that they weren't just going to be guided to Father Callahan by some act of God. They needed to place to stay, as the gas meter was near the glowing E, but they were flat broke.  
They parked in an abandoned lot that night, and slept in through in the car, nearly freezing to death without heat. The next morning, Mark woke with a sniffle and a cough.  
Ben realized Mark wouldn't live long like this. He knew his immune system was already compromised by the great stress and trauma, even if the boy hid every sign of it. While Mark nibbled on _Saltine_ crackers for breakfast in silent misery, Ben went for a "walk". He knew they'd passed a social services building while searching for a parking lot the night before, and he walked the three blocks back to it.  
An hour later, he returned with an address and small map. He unfolded the map and laid it on the dashboard, starting the car without a word. After driving a few streets, Mark finally asked where they were going, and Ben explained that they were going a place where they could stay while there were here.  
A few streets later, the car ran out of gas completely. Ben and Mark abandoned it, and walked the last five blocks to a long, two-story building made of white-painted bricks. There were windows lining the wall that faced the street, and within Mark saw mini-blinds and bed frames of metal bar.  
Mark looked to Ben, knowing what kind of place this was. The writer remained unchanged, like a statue frozen in time. Swallowing his pride, which had actually been shattered long ago, Mark followed Ben up the large cement step to the glass double doors.  
As different as they might have been before the travesty of Barlow, they were rather in the same rut now. Ben had been a wealthy writer living comfortably in the big city, Mark had been a young punk living comfortably in his small home town, and then one day all they'd ever had came crashing down around them in one frail swoop. Now they were lost and alone, putting off living only to ensure their enemy's dying.  
Mark was bombarded by various sights, sounds, and smells from the moment he entered the door. He smelled sweat, dirt, and blood. He heard a baby crying, a woman weeping, men talking in hushed voices. He saw the ill, the old, and the abandoned; all united in their misery under one roof.  
Ben talked to a woman in a white uniform while Mark allowed his sense to take in the forsaken. After a moment, the woman led them away to equipped them with clean blankets and pillows, and escort them to their koyts.  
She informed them that lights out was at ten, and one was free to wake whenever one chooses, as well as come and go as one pleases, though one would have to notify the staff if one was to leave for good, so that they'd know the koyts were free, and be able to wash the sheets.  
Then she left them alone, amongst the dozens of others, to collect themselves, and get themselves settled in... into the Detroit City Homeless Shelter.

**T**hat day went by so fast; Mark could remember little of it. They'd made their beds, which were right next to each other, and warmed their bones in the heated air of the large building. When they could feel their fingers again, they were masochistic enough to venture out.  
**T**hey embarked on a task they would call _scouting_. It was their search for Father Callahan... although, for their first day, it seemed more an act of gathering information. They gathered the names and whereabouts of several churches, Salvation Armies, good wills; all places they thought of where one could find a priest.  
They would have no time to actually find these places, and casually search them as if they really were just homeless bums searching for salvation, for food, for clothes or items, and not for a priest they meant to kill; being as, by the time they'd finished collecting the information they needed, the sun was already fast setting, the street lights turning on.  
Ben insisted they rest tonight, and start scouting in the morning. Mark agreed, though he was still uneasy with the thought that one of Barlow's was still out there, and he still wanted to get it over with as soon as possible... prevent the disease from spreading, prevent it from happening again, to anyone else.

**T**hat night, Mark could hardly sleep. His mind kept going back, spiraling down, back to Salem's Lot... back to the days that had taken his life, flipped it upside-down, and then taken it away.  
He lay in bed, stripped down to his boxers and shirt, curled up tightly in his warm blankets, his damaged mind only showing itself externally in his posture of the fetal position, he store out in to space, as if he could seen back in time that the events that had passed.  
The only real tragedy that had ever befallen Mark before that in his life was when his dad walked out on him and his mother when he was a baby... the absence and being the man for his mother had taught him to be tough, but he still resented his dad for abandoning his family like that, as much as he tried not to complain.  
It made people treat him differently; too... the small-minded townie folk were delicate with him, filled with pity. He didn't like that one bit. Luckily, one day, he committed his first act of trouble-making, and discovered that it clouded people's eyes from his parental misfortune! That's how he became a rebel, the full-blown trouble maker without fear or shame that he was now.  
His best friend, whom he'd known since he was in diapers as their mothers were Bridge buddies, turned out to be the only one to match his thirst for a fuss, and a girl nonetheless! She'd moved away from Salem's Lot a year and a half before Barlow came, though... but she visited during summer, as the court had given her dad the rights to her for that time of the year; so it wasn't so bad.  
Then, in the same winter that was laying frost upon the windows as he laid there, the strangers blew; Barlow and his man bitch. He hadn't though anything of it, even if they'd bought themselves into the Marsten house, at first... not until the Glick boys went missing, and certainly after Danny came to his window.  
Now, Mark was never a superstitious boy, never liking to believe anything unless he'd seen it with his own eyes; but he had always been open for anything... and now he's seen it and he knew; vampires were real, and in his home town.  
He'd stayed awake all night, as if he would have been able to sleep anyway, evaluating this information and what to do with it. It was plain to any eye in the Lot who knew what to look for that Barlow would have to be the origin, and according to legend if you kill the origin you kill them all. Mark knew no one would ever believe him, so he knew he'd have to go after Barlow and go alone.  
As he'd approached the Marsten house the next day, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd lost his mind. He hadn't meant for Susan to be there, and certainly hadn't meant for her to get hurt... but she did, and he felt that it was his fault. Lucky he had such a cool head and was such a quick thinker, he went for Ben as soon as he'd escaped.  
At the time, he was yet to have been introduced to the writer... but the Lot was a small town, and talk is like a cancer in a small town. It grows and spread until everyone hears it whether they wanted to or not. He knew that, according to word of mouth, the writer and Susan were becoming fast friends, if not more... and, by word of mouth, he also knew where Ben was staying.  
As soon as Mark mentioned Susan's name, Ben hadn't given a flying fuck who he was or how credible he may have been. He trusted the boy instantly, having nothing more to go on, and was sucked into the devil's game, too.  
From then on, Mark's life had been nothing but fighting, plotting, and death. He'd united with four older men to fight the vampires. One, his English teacher, Matt Burke, fell while the other three were out, by one of their own that had been corrupted... another, the local doctor, had died by a trap set by the foul creatures... but worst of all that Mark would see, he would witness his own mother's death. He and Father Donald Callahan had gone back to _save her!_ But Barlow must have followed them... he'd fallen through the roof, and twisted his mother's neck around. A sickening snap, and it'd been the end... it would have been so much better if she'd just listen to them, but Mark couldn't really blame her. He blamed himself... for her death, and for the loss of the priest there that night.  
Mark ran back to Burke's hospital room, just as Father Callahan had told him to. He had told them what had happened, as difficult as it may have been to do so, and then passed out in a chair... certainly not by the assistance of a sedative from Dr. Cody... okay, yes; by the assistance of a sedative from Dr. Cody.  
From then on, it'd been just him and Ben, united against the whole dead and dying town. He knew Ben must have had to be feeling at least some of the same loss Mark was feeling, after Ben had been forced to stake Susan, whom he'd tried the hardest to save. He would find that they would both swallow their emotions, hiding them deep down in the pit of their guts, and get the job done.  
They'd done what they'd had to do, finishing off Barlow and leaving the town burning down so the vampires would have no where to hide... they thought they'd finished it, and Mark was finally able to sleep for the first time, besides passing out from exhaustion, since Danny Glick had come to his window at the start of it.  
Now they'd found that Father Callahan, who had been made Barlow's new man bitch, was still alive, and still carrying the essence of Barlow within him. Mark knew they both felt that it was starting again, or more over that it wasn't finished, and perhaps would never be finished, but they both felt this their duty... they wouldn't stop until it was down, not ever before it was completely finished, without a trace left to remember it by; not a thing besides their scars.

* * *

Yes, I know it's short, and it kinda sucks, but it's a start! Yay!

Next chapter; a friend from the past returns...


	2. Sam

Chapter 02: Sam

"I thought I lost you somewhere

But you were never really ever there at all

And I want to get free, talk to me

I can feel you falling

Wanted to be all you need

Somehow here is gone…"

- from "Here Is Gone" by _The Goo Goo Dolls_

**M**ark felt as if he'd only just closed his eyes, when he was suddenly being shaken to consciousness by Ben. Really, he'd been asleep only two or three hours, four tops, but nonetheless... Ben wanted to do some scouting early, and he knew Mark would want to go with him. After all, Ben didn't know how little sleep Mark had gotten, otherwise he would have let the boy rest...  
Mark dressed quickly, pulling his beanie down over the tops of his ears, and then left with Ben, stepping out into the cold, breezy morning.  
They walked around in circles for a few hours, finding only three of the churches on their long list, before noon was upon them. In none of the buildings, great as if they'd been carved from the earth, did they find hide nor hair of the surviving priest. At twelve, they turned around and walked briskly back to the shelter  
Every afternoon the shelter offered lunch to its inhabitants, which consisted every day of a sandwich and glass of milk. It wasn't fancy, but it was better then eating out of dumpsters like they would have been doing otherwise.  
They made in just in time, and sat down on the koyts to eat and drink in silence. The bread was stale, and the lunch meat too salty, but Mark wolfed it down nonetheless... it was all he would have to eat for the day, as they had not a cent between them.  
When the meal was finished for both or them, they sat upon their beds until the warmth spread back through their bodies, and spoke softly. Ben knew little about Mark, and Mark knew a fair share about Ben's childhood due to local lore, but didn't know much of the life he led know, the life he'd led in New York before he'd returned to the Lot. Times like these, when it became too terrible to bare the constant thought of the demons they stalked and speak it out loud, too boot, that they chose to get to know each other... after all, they both believed they'd be living in New York together soon, like father and son almost... might as well be strangers no longer.  
A few hours had gone by like this, before Ben stood up. He voiced that they'd best head out now, if they intended to scout again before nightfall. Mark agreed, and got up as well, following the older man out... but something stopped him dead in his tracks.  
It only took Ben a moment to notice the lack of sound of the footsteps that were supposed to follow his own. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Mark frozen in place. The look upon his face was that of disbelief, but not of horror or grief. It was in the _too good to be true_ sense. Ben followed his gaze, to a young girl.  
She stood not half way a crossed the room from them, beside what seemed to be her own koyt. Her eyes had locked with Mark's and she, too, seemed in the same freeze.  
She was about the same age as Mark, thin and slender, with small lumps for breasts and still rather narrow hips. Her hair was sunshine blonde and nipple-length, and her eyes were a startling green. A tiny gold captive graced the corner of her lower lip.  
A smile broke out on the girl's face, and she ran a crossed the room, falling onto her tippy-toes and throwing her arms around Mark's neck. Mark wrapped his arms around her, too, and laughed, "Sam!"  
Ben recognized that name... Mark had spoken much of it, when going over the tale of his short life. To Mark, it had meant friendship, and comfort, and ally. To Mark, that name had meant everything, when to other's; it would have seemed nothing at all...  
Samantha Ann Hennessy; Mark's childhood best friend.  
Ben smiled, recovering from the shock of the stranger, including that the identity of the name's was that of a female, and stood silently watching from the side lines.  
"What are you doing here?" Mark asked when she finally pulled away. "I thought you were up north in Gatlin or whatever...  
"I was, I, um... I ran away," Mark could tell that she was lying, but he was too excited to beat the truth out of her now. "And what are you doing here? Joyce would _never_ leave the Lot!"  
Mark frowned. Joyce was the name of his mother. "She's dead..."  
"Dead? How?"  
"I don't wanna talk about it," Mark looked away, and they were quiet for a moment, before, at length, Mark pulled Ben into this. "This is Ben... you remember the stories about Ben Mears? Yeah, this is him... he's my guardian now."  
"Nice to meet you," Sam shook his hand, and laughed. "How did that happen, anyway?"  
"It's a long story," Ben said, smirking.  
"Yeah?" Sam offered him a smile in return. "Well, maybe, one day, you'll write it down in one of those books of yours, ah?"  
Ben, too, diverted his eyes. "Yeah... maybe..."  
Sam turned away, and began chatting with Mark again. She'd never know how right she was, never know about the secret notebook and pen that was all Ben took with him, where he wrote down every little thing of his time back in the Lot, that he pondered turning in to his publishing agency when he returned to New York. He didn't care if no one would ever believe him; he knew what he'd been through...  
After a moment, Ben scrapped the idea of scouting again that night, so that he could get to know Sam, and so that Sam and Mark could get to know each other again, as they slowly walked back to sit amongst Ben and Mark's koyts.  
It would be a happy night, for once...

**O**ver the next few days, Mark went on fewer of the scouts then he would have otherwise.  
He couldn't explain to Sam that he was hunting down an escapee from a vampire slaughter town, and he didn't want to lie to her... although, he would if he had to. He still felt that he owed her the truth, but had lost too much because of Barlow's kind... he didn't want to lose her, too; not to an insanity he knew was real.  
To reduce explanations, he left with Ben before she woke up, or during times she herself wasn't at the shelter, or even once or twice after she'd gone to sleep. When he returned, and she'd ask him where he'd gone, he'd simply answer; "... with Ben."  
Once, he'd almost been caught. He'd thought Sam had been out somewhere, where ever she went when she wasn't around, but as he'd gone out the front door he'd found her leaning against the side of the building with a cigarette in hand.  
He'd been able to turn the situation around into him yelling at her for smoking, while Ben snuck off to do what they'd meant to do, leaving Mark behind. Luckily for him, it worked...  
Some time went by like this -- days, weeks, months; all Mark knew of was the infinite snow -- it didn't matter, they would never stop looking... when, finally; they found what they were looking for.

**I**t was early evening, when Mark and Ben had left the shelter. Sam had gone off with an older guy who drove a car and had given her some sort of bottle that had seemed to make her happy; Mark had seen them from down the block. He'd sighed, remembering that, of the two of them, Sam was always the trouble-maker that seemed to enjoy getting _herself_ in trouble, too...  
The soup kitchen hadn't even been their destination that day... they'd passed it on their way to a Catholic church that was supposed to have had some sort of visual later that night.  
Ben had stopped dead in his tracks, stopping Mark, too. He'd told Mark to hide in the alley beside the soup kitchen, and proceeded once he'd done so. Mark, peering over the edge, had matched Ben go up to the glass and peer through it... without a word to his ally, he'd gone inside.  
Mark had only waited a moment, before he leaned over more and peered through the glass. He saw Ben waiting in some sort of line, and arched his brow. A farther inspection of the room had brought Mark to the real reason been had gone inside...  
Father Callahan, alive and well; still doing his churchly duties.  
Mark gasped and peered in further. He watched Ben go in deeper, until he reached the priest. Father Callahan had given him a tray, and said something to him, but after only a brief moment of silent, Ben threw the food back at the father, and attacked him.  
Mark watched the inhabitants gasped, watched the father run off, watched Ben follow him up a flight a stairs, and disappear out of Mark's sight.  
He backed up, looking up to the above windows. Where was Ben? Where was Father Callahan? What was going on? His thoughts were racing. Finally, he saw the father looking out the window... looking at him! Mark's mouth fell open, and he took a step back, but only a moment later, he saw Ben again.  
He watched, as best he could, the fight take place... he heard the sound first, before he saw the glass explode out in a shower of tiny shards. He jumped out of the way and scrambled back into the alley, jerking around and leaning against the wall, he watched the drop, a blob of dark color crashing into the earth.  
The police cars had already driven up, but Mark hadn't noticed them until the blob smashed into them. The body rolled off the hood of the car, onto the sidewalk, and that's when Mark saw that it was Ben...  
The world seemed to stop from the moment Mark laid eyes on the twisted body of his friend and only ally. Suddenly, every word the writer had ever said came back to him in a flash, and then the world started up again, in slow motion.  
The paramedics stepped out of their vehicles, a pair of two running over to either body. Mark felt his eyes fill with tears, but he would never allow them to leave his eyes, not now, not after all he'd already been through.  
He couldn't quite understand at all when the pair of paramedics at Ben's side shouted that he wasn't alive. He couldn't really compute anything at all, until the paramedics at Father Callahan's said called out that he was alive, too. That's when the world caught back up to speed, and Mark understood... that it wasn't over yet.

**M**ark knew he couldn't waste any time. As soon as the police and paramedics cleared out, he bolted out of the alley and back to the shelter, demanding the address from the first worker he saw without even a word of greetings.  
He didn't check if Sam was there, didn't much care. He was lucky she wasn't back yet, to say the least. The worker, a female with a bad perm, scribbled down the directions on a scrap of paper, and handed it to him. The second it was in his fingers, he turned and ran away, without as much as a word of thanks.  
He was at the hospital in less than a half an hour, and sneak in through a side door on a doctor's coat tail after that doctor had opened it by swiping a card. He snuck very carefully through halls he was not supposed to be in, and finally hid in a linen closet with the door opened just a crack for him to hear and see through.  
He was lucky to have chosen that closet. It was positioned on a wall that looked out at a plus-mark where halls met. Doctors ran into each other there often, and spoke of their patients.  
The first news he heard was of Ben. Two female nurses ran into each other, and one began to talk of a man who had attacked a priest and taken a two story drops... that had to be Ben. Mark listened carefully as the nurse recounted his condition, and his heart fell...  
A ruptured organ; it was only a matter of time, unless they could get him into surgery before morning, which was little short of impossible.  
Mark swallowed his grief, and stayed his course. He didn't know how long he'd waited in that linen closet... it felt like eternity, with his nerves on end like they were, but it was probably only a few hours. He'd heard about Father Callahan, and his condition, and well as more on Ben, and what room Ben was in, but he was waiting to hear where the father was being held... and, finally, it slipped.  
A male doctors told a female nurse with big, frizzy, curly hair to check on patient 1102 (which Mark had heard before, and knew was the father) in room 416. His heart leapt up in his chest and he stood up straight, finally discovering the door.  
Even more anxious then before, he waited, his eyes unblinking on the hall, until the female nurse that had gone to the father's room passed by again. When she was out of sight, and the coast was clear, Mark knew it was the time to fly.  
He crept out of the closet, shutting the door silently behind him, and slipped down the hall. Slowly on cautiously, his eyes switching back and forth like a pendulum, he went on; he couldn't afford to get caught now.  
It wasn't a long walk, and not too hard to find; he only went down the wrong one once. Within moments, he was in front of the door that an unknown amount of time had led him to. Again, he slipped in, shutting the door silently behind him.  
He turned, and stopped for a moment. There was Father Callahan, hooked up to a bed by various machines and things, unconscious thanks to the severe concussion Ben had left him with... this was the man who had baptized Mark, and married his parents, and fought beside him against the vampires... now as black as any one of them, a sniveling half breed whose entire existence revolved around being a slave to the undead.  
... This was the best thing to do, even for Father Callahan; he wouldn't want to be like that.  
Mark crept up to his bed side, hesitantly, and examined the machines and hook-ups. He knew well enough that a pad stuck to the priest's chest monitored his heart-beat, and if it was to not pick it up anymore, it would alert the staff... he knew he had to prevent this.  
Thinking fast, he located the patched and took a split second to lift it from the father's chest and stick it to his wrist. He clenched his jaw and looked at the machine. His muscle's eased as he found it still beeping steadily. Slowly, he crept around the bed, and attached the pad to the chest of the man in the bed opposite the father's, next to the man's own chest pad, so that it would pick up a heart beat for both of them, then he crept back to the bedside. He lifted a pillow from under the priest's head, and held it in both of his hands.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and brought the pillow over Father Callahan's face.  
Even though he was unconscious, his natural responses made the priest struggle, but Mark held strong, until some time after he lay very still, unmoving, without his chest rising or falling at all.  
Mark finally released the pillow, but had not the heart to remove it from Father Callahan's face. He took a step back, but still nothing happened... a steady beep was all that creased Mark's thoughts, but it was not the father's.  
He was dead. It was over.

**H**e left the priest after that, eager to tell Ben that he could relax now, that they were free of the vampire's curse. The world was free; because of them... no trace of Barlow remained.  
He'd entered his friend's room, and his excitement had been humbled by it. He'd crept to the bedside, and told Ben just what he needed to know, laying Ralphie's hat on his chest, to which been replied, "Hunting season's over..."  
Mark had smiled, for the first time at ease since Danny Glick had come to his window and awared him that all was not right in the world at all.  
Ben had smiled, too, and laid his head to the side... that's when the machine rang out, loud and clear, and sharp enough to break glass. Mark had been frozen in place, too shocked to comprehend, before it dawned on him, and he knew he had to get out of here. He turned on his heels, and made a run for it, whinding down the halls and back to the side door through which he'd come in.  
Damn it! He'd forgotten the door opened only by slide card! He should have taken one, if he had remembered, or found another escape... he kicked the door in desperation, panic; his head filled with what might happen to him now if he couldn't flee... to make it worse, he heard a voice behind him. Jerking around, he was faced with an African American nurse, towering over him in silent dismay.  
He stumbled back into the door, trying with all his might not to cower before the older, stronger man. He was cornered! Matt Burke's words were ringing in his ears; "_you might survive only to be tried for murder..._"  
"I don't believe you," the nurse told him. "I can't..."  
But nonetheless, he swiped the card. The door gave way. Mark was frozen in disbelief for a moment, but his mind was screaming at him to just go... finally, his legs became animated again, and he flipped around and dashed off into the night, with no known destination at all... he was just running, free at last, but too scared and fucked up to understand any of it...

**M**ark found himself beneath a tree in a park-like area, too tired to go on. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and decided now would be a good time to plot his course of action...  
Ben was dead, he couldn't go back to New York with him now, and he couldn't trust him to guide him anymore. He was perpetually alone in the world now... god, how he hated to be alone! He'd never let anyone see an ounce of it, but he was scared; hell, he was terrified! He felt small and confused amidst all this chaos and he didn't believe he could do it alone...  
Sam! His childhood partner in crime! But how could he get to her? He couldn't go back to the shelter... if that black nurse told anyone about him; they'd know he killed the priest. They'd dig up dirt about him, and that would be the first place they would look. He had to get out of Detroit, and the sooner, the better...  
But, surely, it would take time for them to track him back to the shelter... and it would only take him a minute to get Sam and get out. God, it was worth a try! Either way he would end up alone, if he didn't try... and, Lord knows, he wasn't one to give up.  
When he caught his breath again, and the aching in his sides and knees subsided a little, he got back to his feet, and began a jog back towards the shelter. He'd be in and out like that, before anyone would know he was there... he'd just get Sam and get out, it was that simple...  
... Wasn't it?

* * *

Next chapter; Mark tells Sam the truth... how will she react? Read and find out! 


	3. Trust

Chapter 03: Trust

"_Nothing said could change the fact  
My trust was blind  
You broke the pact  
If God's my witness, God must be blind…_"

- from "As Heaven Is Wide" by _Garbage_

**N**ow, being a first class trouble maker, Mark was educated in the art of sneaking around and, of course, sneaking in. It was natural that he would find the least conflicting way to get inside of the shelter...  
He avoided the front door and the workers who were stationed there, just in case they'd caught on to him faster then they would have expected or some sort of thing, by going to a side window he knew was beside the koyt of a smoker.  
He was in luck! The heavy black woman had been at that window recently, her cigarette butt still lying on the sill, and forgotten yet to close it. All he had to do was climb into the low braches of the tree, and from a limb he could stick his legs through the window and slip in.  
He went about his business, unnoticed by the inhabitants of the shelter even as he slipped from the sill and tumbled to the ground with a hollow _thump_. He got to his feet briskly, and scanned the room for Sam's koyt. She was there, her blonde hair shielding the half of her face on the opposite side of him and hanging over one shoulder.  
Her eyes were slowly scanning something in her lap, but Mark had no time to ponder. He jogged over, stopping at her bedside, and grabbed her wrist.  
"Sam," she looked up, startled, and dropped the book from her lap. Mark looked down at it, and saw Ben's face staring back up at him from the cover. He winced, and looked away. "I've gotta get out of here... will you come with me?"  
"What? Why?"  
"I'll tell you everything, just not here."  
"But I don't understand--"  
"--Sam, _please!_"  
She stopped, looking his face over now. His wavy hair was crushed under his beanie, his skin was pale, the color of sour milk, and his lips were chapped. His eyes were worst of all, with the dark brows burrowed around his sunken eyes, so big they seemed as if they could light up a room... but now they were darkened and baggy, from stress and lack of sleep and poor nutrition. He looked like hell... and he looked desperate.  
"... Okay," she replied, throwing her legs over the side of her koyt.  
She grabbed up a black and red CANADA zip-up hoodie from the ground and pulled it on over her reddish brown camisole, as well as slipping a dirty white scrunchy around her wrist for later. Watching her do this, Mark noticed a sharp tare in the left knee of her faded and stained jeans, but discarded it quickly as she'd zipped herself up and stuck her feet into her sneakers and was now ready to follow him out.  
He led her out the front door, for he could not escape back out the window as the heavy black woman had returned to her koyt and shut it, and out into the night...

**C**reeping down back streets under light of moon, the pair eventually found themselves quite lost, and growing rather weary and weak; especially Mark, whose long and troubled day was catching up with him, moments coming back to him like flashes of lightning.  
Finally, they came upon a place where they could hide out for the night... a bridge arched like a cat's spine in a fright, thick and sturdy. Underneath it, a tiny stream was frozen over with a layer of ice, water trickling along far beneath it. On either side of it, there were banks coated with dead leaves and twigs, which were coated with snow where the bridge did not stand... but beneath the wooden structure, the banks were dry and safe.  
They crawled underneath, careful not to slip down the slopes and break their skulls on the ice bellow, and hid on the side they'd already been on so they wouldn't have to cross the ice. They sat upon the crackling ground, close to the wood that protected them from the elements to minimize the possibility of being seen.  
Sam pulled her sleeves down over her hands and brought her legs up, holding them to her body. Mark sat Indian style and rubbed his cheeks with his hands, trying to bring the life back into them. Neither of them spoke for quite some time, shivering in silence and darkness lit only by the moon beams that filtered through the spaces between the boards, until...  
"... What happened?" Sam asked, at length.  
Mark sighed, hanging his head, and tried to decide where to begin. "I don't know how long ago it was, but I know it was in October--"  
"--Last month."  
"What?"  
"Today was Thanksgiving," Sam informed her, speaking in a voice just above a whisper. "October was last month..."  
Mark nodded, and thought sarcastically, _good to know_... "Okay then, _last month_ it all started. These two guys, Straker and Barlow came into town... they bought the Marsten house. Weird, right? You have no idea..."  
He went on to tell her of the night he, Danny, and Ralphie had snuck into the Charlie Roads's yard and peaked in on his glove compartment pornography, entirely with the intent to get rid of the bus driver for good, when they'd been forced to run for it, and the Glick boys thereafter went missing. He told her of his success, up until Danny came to his window, and then the days that followed, battling Barlow and his fledglings, uniting and falling with others, until Ben and him _thought_ they'd won and split, only to find that Father Callahan survived, and follow him back to Detroit. He told her where he went with Ben when he hadn't been at the shelter, and finally, finished the story with the events of the dead, including putting the priest down, and watching Ben, his only ally, fall... He told her all this and she listened, solemn faced, with little to no comment.  
When at last his tale was done, silence befell the friends, and Sam's eyes were on her hands, which toyed with her shoe laces... until, finally, she found the courage to say; "So you've fought them, too..."  
"What?" Mark gasped, that being the last thing he'd expected her to say.  
She smirked, in a kinda of miserable irony, and went on without raising her eyes. "I thought I was crazy... probably because everyone else was dead, so there was never really any proof that I wasn't."  
Mark watched her with brows twisted in confusion and concern, and she relayed for him a similar sort of tale...  
She didn't know who the origin was, didn't know how it started or where it came from... when the disease had spread to epidemic proportions, like on the night between the sixth and seventh of October for Salem's Lot, she'd been at a party to mourn the end of the summer.  
She'd been out late into the night, drinking and dancing, until finally the group she'd come with had decided it was time to leave. She was a little bit drunk, only half-sober maybe, when she hopped into the back of her friend Drew's car. Her cousin Emily was staying with her that weekend while her parents were off on business, so he took both the girls back to Sam's house. He waited outside to make sure both the girls got home safely, but when they went inside, Sam's mother, Terry, and her boyfriend, Greg, attacked them.  
"... You know how Em's always been real religious and shit, right? Well, she made the sign of the cross at them and they backed off, hissing and showing their fangs and stuff... that's when we realized what they were."  
She went on to tell of how they ran out of the house, jumping into Drew's car again, and tried to explain to him through their hysteria what had happened. He had not believed them, so he went back inside to check it out, much to the girls' disapproval. Emily had cracked the window, and they both store out anxiously for some sign of him... when they heard him screaming, a blood curdling scream that could force the urine right out of a man's body.  
Emily, who was the older of the two, climbed into the front seat at this point, and started the car. Sam was screaming, "_What about Drew? What about Drew?_", but Emily ignored her, pulling out of the driveway and down the street. They went speeding to the end of town, but the exit was blocked off by a hoard of the undead. Emily and Sam were horrified, but came up with a plan quick.  
They would both run opposite ways to confuse the vampires, and sneak out down the train tracks jumping on one of the carts. They could hear the train coming, even at this point. They agreed, and jumped out of either door of the front seat. Emily went running off in the opposite direction of the tracks, being as her legs were longer and she could run faster, while Sam made a sprint for the goal.  
"What happened then?" Mark asked, as Sam had suddenly stopped the telling of her tale.  
She shrugged, keeping her eyes down, and repeatedly wetting her lips nervously. "Nothing... we tricked them, kept them out 'til dawn, and then hopped the train... Emily didn't make it, I did... when I came through again, the train had stopped in Detroit. I got off and found the shelter, made a few new friends, and the rest you pretty much know..."  
Mark, although, was not yet satisfied. "But they're all dead?"  
"Yeah--"  
"--You're sure?"  
"Damn it, Mark, I said yes! They're dead! Just like Emily, and Drew, and everyone else; they're all fucking dead!"  
Mark withdrew, wounded by her tone... but, at the same time, he felt guilt. He should have been more gentle... he knew how hard it must be on her, simply by knowing how hard it was on him... but she came down, and apologized for shouting, before putting her arm around her dear friend's shoulders.  
"We're all right now," she told him. "The worst is over... let's just get some sleep..."

**T**he morning came in slow, like syrup slipping down a tree... the first rays of sweet, yellow light that pierced the gaps between the boards and tickled at Sam's eyes brought her to waken.  
It took a moment for her to remember running off with Mark and hiding under the bridge the night before. Another moment and she remembered the conversations that had followed, exchanging their horror stories like well read fiction. Another and she'd remember working with Mark to keep them warm and alive through the night; zipping their hoodies together, pulling their arms within, and curling up close like two kittens abandoned together.  
Her head was resting on his shoulder and his on a smooth rock. She felt no urgent need to get up, though cold and hungry and sore, knowing that it would change nothing; and waited patiently for Mark to wake up before pondering a course of action.  
Instead, she let her mind wander... back to the night before, and the stories exchanged. She focused on Mark's tale, trying to piece it together, to form images in her head like and put them in motion. She knew the names and the faces to match, and understood what reasoning would stand for their actions, so it was not too difficult... she, too, had grown up in the Lot, before her parents divorce. Her mother had taken Sam back to her own home town... Terry never liked being treated differently for being an outsider, anyway.  
How stingingly sad it seemed to Sam, now, that no matter whether she'd gone or stayed, they still would have come; she still would have had to face them... but she still believed it would have been better in the Lot, with Mark and others she knew and trusted... but, then again, she also believed that everything happens for a reason.  
But what was the reason behind this? What was the reason behind any of it?  
Before the hour was up Mark, too, would find his eyes opening against the pale rays of sunlight. It reflected off the snow around him, creating millions of tiny sparkles like thousands of tiny diamonds, diamonds crushed and sprinkled upon the earth.  
The two collected themselves, before crawling back out from under the bridge. They stood together, and surveyed their surroundings through narrowed eyes... without realizing it, Mark had led them back to the park where he'd stopped the night before, and deeper in yet still. They could hear cars rushing along slick roads and horns honking offensively, but could not see anything through the white-topped trees, except the higher reaches of silver buildings beyond.  
Steadily, with their arms wrapped around themselves for warmth and comfort, they sulked out of the park and back into city streets.  
They spent most of the day just trying to keep warm. Sam suggested they go off to see her friends, the friends he'd seen her with the morning before, for the day. They were, apparently, three 18-year-olds, one of which who was pregnant with another's baby, that shared an apartment. Mark refused, though; saying that he didn't want to get them involved... and Sam, reluctantly, had to agree.  
So they stayed in stores and public buildings, until someone noticed they'd been there an unusually long time, and had no acquired the services, and ultimately; they were kicked out. Sometimes they were kicked out on sight just because they looked like street kids! They continued this all the day long, until night fell, and most places closed, and it was almost impossible to seek refuge in a building.  
They began to forfeit that fight, and sulk back into the shadows where they would find another hiding place like the night before, or maybe try to find their way back to the park, to the bridge... they crawled back streets, trying to find some direction, some path to tred that would lead them to salvation, when a voice came to them through the darkness.  
It called to them, and they turned, realizing that a side door to a dingy apartment building was open. A tall, scrawny yet muscular man stood in its frame, smoking a crumpled _Marlboro_ cigarette. His black hair was long and combed back, and he had a tattoo of a dragon on his upper arm. They stopped walking, but stayed close together, waiting for the man to speak.  
"Y-you guys got a place to go?" he asked, shifting his weight.  
"No," Mark told him, uneasily. "Why? What do you care?"  
The man smiled, sadly. "You could stay with me... I've got room."  
The younger pair looked at each other, then back at the man. Sam proceeded, as cautious as Mark before her; "You serious?"  
"Yeah," the man said warmly. "Look, if you got a problem with strangers, my name's Dante. Now tell me yours and we won't be strangers anymore!"  
Sam smirked, her eyes lighting up at last. "I'm Sam, and this is my buddy Mark. Now that that's out of the way..."  
She proceeded in walking foreword towards the man, Dante. Mark followed her, eased by her trust, forgetting just how bad a judge of character Sam was... besides, he'd never been outside of the Lot. It never occurred to him that there were bad _people_ out there, certainly not! Bad vampires, yes, but not bad people...  
Dante gave Sam a cigarette, which she smoked down with pleasure, much to Mark's displeasure... then they followed him back up a long, narrow flight of metal stairs, back to a red-painted door in a hall of many red-painted doors with "34B" written on it, which brought a giggle to the girl who understood the double meaning.  
"Why I got it," Dante smirked at her. Aww, he understood, too!  
Mark, confused, followed them in after Dante opened the door, and went right to the kitchen. He prepared warm soup for the homeless kids, and brought it out to them with a bag of greasy potato chips. They both gulped it down gratefully, thanking Dante many times for his kindness.  
Afterwards, Dante arranged the fold-out couch and told them, throwing pillows and blankets on it, that they would be sleeping there. They thanked him again, and he said, "Oh, stop! You're gonna make me blush."  
Sam was ecstatic, jumping upon the fold-out bed and rolling around in the covers like a crazed dog. Mark laughed, realizing now just how much he'd missed Sam's reckless stupidity while they'd been away from each other, but banished the thought from his mind for tonight. Tonight, they had food in their bellies and a roof over there head! What was there to complain about?  
After a while, Dante bid them goodnight and locked himself in his room, and Mark strayed off to go take a shower. He hadn't had one in a month, and he was disgusted by the feel of his own hair... Sam stayed behind, wrapped up in blankets and bouncing in her own space, she sat in front of the TV clicking buttons like they would disappear if she didn't keep her fingers on them.  
After almost a half an hour of being alone, Sam jumped when she heard a voice in the doorway. "You know, you can't watch everything at once, Sam..."  
Her eyes shot up. Oh, just Dante... no worries. Her muscles eased beneath her skin, and she turned her eyes back to the screen. "I know, it's just I haven't watched TV in, like, a _month!_ Not since they went off sale at _Radioshack_, anyway... Do you remember that? I remember that."  
Dante smirked, walking over and sitting on the bed beside her. "So... how long have you been away from home?"  
"A long damn time," Sam said, nodding, with her eyes still absorbing the screen. "Why?"  
"How long has it been since somebody touched you?"  
She arched a brow at him. "A minute ago... Mark tapped me on the shoulder to tell me he was going to take a shower."  
"That's not what I meant," he whispered, leaning his mouth close to her ear.  
She stiffened, dropping the remote, and jerked around. "Hey, man... I'm not legal, alright? And I can tell you're above eighteen, so--"  
"--I'm not interested in what's legal," Dante shook his head, and Sam's eyes shot wide.  
"_Oh fuck_," she moaned, and tried to sprint off the fold-out, but Dante grabbed her legs. In the other room, she heard the shower shut off, and tried crying out, but Dante slammed a hand over her mouth. "What? You thought you could stay here for free? Everything comes with a price, darlin'!"  
She thrashed desperately, feeling his fingers pop the button of her jeans open. He just laughed, and continued trying to remove her pants. She bucked even harder, and he slapped her a crossed the face so hard it brought tears to her eyes, his ring cutting into her cheek and leaving a tiny gash.  
"_Hey!_" Dante jerked his neck around, looking over his shoulder, and Sam angled hers to see, too. Mark stood in the doorway in his shirt and jeans, hoodie and beanie on the floor beside him. He lunged at Dante, punching his stiffly in the jaw. "_Get the fuck off her!_"  
Dante sneered, stood up, and punched Mark back, sending the kid flat on his ass. Mark kicked Dante in the knee, causing it to bend unnaturally and painfully. Dante grabbed Mark up off the floor by his collar and threw him against the way. Sam watched in horror as Mark's body tumbled to the floor, out cold at the least.  
"You son of bitch!" Sam cried, trying to get up to help Mark, but Dante jumped on her again, pinning her down at the wrist and thighs. She struggled, but to no avail.  
"I told you," Dante snickered, pulling her pants down to her knees. "Nothing comes without a price..."  
And then he stopped short, his head shooting back with a gasp. Sam watched in terrified confusion, as blood began to drip out of his mouth. She saw it pooling around a hole in the front of his shirt, and then screamed when he fell limp on top of her pushing him off her frantically.  
She fell to the floor, pulling her pants back up with one hand, and crawled to Mark's side, immediately trying to shake him awake. It didn't work. She checked his pulse... he was still alive, thank god! She breathed a sigh of relief and rested her head against his shoulder, feeling her stomach turn inside her.  
"Miss? Miss?"  
"Huh?" she looked up, and to the source of the gun shot wound to Dante. It was a police officer, African America, very muscular, with his hair in cornrows.  
"Are you alright, Miss? Did he hurt you? How about your friend?"  
"I'm fine," she said, shakily. "I don't know about him... I think he's just out."  
"Okay," the officer pulled out a pad of note paper with a tiny pencil attached to it on a string. "I'm gonna need your names and--"  
"--No!"  
"Excuse me?"  
"You can't have our names, we can't tell you anything, we can't say anything for the court, and we can't be a part of this."  
"But you already are, Miss, you--"  
"--You don't understand!" she cried, stopping the officer short. The room fell silent, and a sort of dark foreboding feeling feel over it. She whispered, too afraid to speak any louder, "... We can't be found."  
The silence continued, growing thick and heavy, and Sam continued to aid to her friend, who seemed as if he were coming through, his eye-lids twitching and his brows narrowing, his fingers beginning to clutch something invisible "... Please, help us. Let us go."  
The officer seemed to be fighting within himself, weighing the decision that was laid before. Finally, he sighed... "Alright, but I can do better then that. You come down stairs with me and let me call this in, and I'll get you kids in a room for the night."  
Sam tried to force a smile, though hope had been beaten out of her by the morbid events that had just passed through her. "Thank you..."

* * *

Next chapter; Sam has to make a hard decision... 


	4. Leaving

Chapter 04: Leaving

"_Can you take this spike?  
Will it fill our hearts with thoughts of endless  
Night time sky  
Can you take this spike?  
Will it wash away this jet black feeling?_"

- from "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" by _My Chemical Romance_

**T**he next morning was a gray one, with snow falling light and lazily from the sky above... although the beds of the hotel were comfortable, and sleep came easy, it didn't last so well for Sam...  
Her mind kept wandering back to Gatlin, back to the shinning eyes of the dead, the hunger that caused her own mother to slam her into a wall and bite like a rabid dog at Sam's neck held off only by a broom stick the girl had clutched on instinct, back to the look on Emily's face the last time Sam saw her, the last time Sam would ever see her alive. These horrors and more came before her eyes, as if they were playing on a movie screen, her closed lids the back drop.  
9:14, the red numbers of the clock on the bedside burned into Sam's irises. She sat up in bed, sighing, and ran her fingers through her blonde hair; the closest thing she could do to brushing it. She looked to the other twin bed on the opposite side of the nightstand, where Mark was still a lump curled up under the gray quilt, and smiled.  
Poor kid... why did this have to happen to him? Sam understood why something like this would come to her, she called it as punishment for all the bad things she'd already done in her life, but why Mark? Mark was clean! He was still innocent... at least, he was before it all happened to him, too.  
She felt heaviness in her chest... Mark had been braver than her, Mark had faced them, although Mark _had_ had allies, when she and Emily were all alone. She felt as if she'd done the wrong thing, and maybe she had; but after last night, she'd had to come to terms and make the hard decision, and how unfortunate that it was to do the right thing... at the very least, she had to tell him... he'd know what to do after that...  
She waited, on her bed facing his, as the minutes ticked by; waiting for him to wake up, for she didn't have the heart to wake him... it wouldn't take _too_ long, though. Mark was never one to be settled for too long.  
It only took him as long after waking to fit up and turn his head before he stopped, seeing her watching him with those feline eyes. Her face was very still, and her arms were draped limply in her lap.  
"I lied..."  
He rubbed his head and groaned out, "About what?"  
"Gatlin. The vampires," that got his attention. "They're not dead. I lied. They're still alive. They're still back there."  
"Are you shitting me?"  
She shook her head. "I was so scared, Mark. They took my mom, and my friends, and the whole fucking town! Emily was scared, too... she didn't want me to know it, but she was."  
Mark was too stunned to speak for a moment, so Sam went on, correcting the ending from her original version of the tale told...  
"That night, wee drove down to the train station and ran out both ways. I made it to the platform and called out to Emily, but that just got the attention of the vampires... they came at me, but Emily got there first. She shoved me on one of the carts and stayed behind to fend them off... I was calling to her, begging her to get on the train, but she just wouldn't, and I watched her disappear beneath them. I think they _ate her_, Mark!"  
Mark slumped back down, holding a hand to his forehead. Damn it! Would this _ever_ be over? With much reluctance, he concluded; "... Well then we have to go back."  
Sam was petrified. She knew that was what Mark would say, but it was a completely different thing to hear... she forced herself to snap out of it, looking away and out in to space, though truly at the wall. She nodded, absent-mindedly, though all she saw was Terry's face...  
Her mother's face, contorted in a death grin, laughing at her.

**S**quatting... that's what they call it when homeless kids sit on street corners and beg for money. Welcome to afternoon for Sam and Mark!  
The weather had cleared up since morning, becoming a fleece of white that coated the sky, with the occasional tares that allowed short bursts of sunlight through.  
Sam prepared a sign made of cardboard and marker reading, "TRYING TO GET HOME; EVERY $ HELPS", propped it up beside them, and sat down next to Mark, leaning against a building. After all, it was only a half lie... Sam had lived there for a while.  
They waited patiently, as lunch-time traffic began to kick up. Sam turned on the charm, making her eyes very wide and glassy, and reached up to everyone that passed, pleading; "Excuse me, do you have any spare change?"  
That worked to get inflow started, although after a while she didn't even need to anymore. People just began to notice the sign and drop money into the tin Sam had placed in front of it. A couple hours passed, and Sam took a little snooze, resting her head in Mark's lap, her hands on his thigh. He put his arm around her shoulder, and manned the streets.  
Mark didn't even need to put on a face, or say a word... he appeared pitiful enough as it was, and the dollars and quarters and, occasionally, larger bills came falling it steadily, like the snow storm that was building in the west.  
As evening sunk in, and the less-giving folk on their way out to dinner or rushing past on their way home began to prowl, Mark figured it was time to give up the chase. He collected the money, counted it, and was surprised to find a portion more then he expected!  
He and Sam crawled to their feet, and walked along more comfortably then they had in days. Figuring that they were soon to be faced with the undead again, street dangers didn't seem so terrible anymore.  
A short walk, maybe twenty minutes, brought them to the local bus station. They waited in line for quite some time, before finally making it to the desk. The attendant informed them that a bus heading for a town just before Gatlin was departing in forty-five minutes. Sam made the final decision, purchasing the tickets and walking back with Mark to a waiting room, obviously, with many navy blue chairs.  
"Why," Mark checked his ticket. "_Montgomery_ The local buses do runs to Gatlin, we could have just waited 'til morning."  
"Montgomery is right before Gatlin," she told him, pulling at her sleeve nervously. "I wanna see if they've... spread y'know?"  
Mark nodded, suddenly understanding. He hadn't thought about that... god, what would they do then? Could they take that many of them? It wouldn't be as easy as burning the place down, like in the Lot, then...  
Mark, boredom sinking in from the waiting process, surveyed his surroundings... several rows of chairs, white and gray tiled floors, beige walls with large, rectangular windows that displayed only the blackness beyond, interrupted by street lamps that illuminated cars and roads and buildings with pale yellow light. The other room was pretty much the same, except sans chairs, plus the reception desk and navy blue carpeting on the floor... and then, Sam.  
Sitting beside him, her shoulders slumped and head hung a little, staring down at her hands in her lap that fitled with her sleeve nervously. The light caught on the ring her lip and shined like a tiny golden light. Her hair was up in a high pony-tail, except for a few rebellious strands in the front that curled around her chin. He noticed, now that her zip-up hoodie was unzipped partially, hanging off of one shoulder, the strap of her black bra... his eyes followed it, down to the collar of her cami, where a tiny bit of cleavage could be seen; betraying her boyish nature by feminine beauty.  
Feeling his face grow hot, he looked away quickly -- maybe a little _too_ quickly -- and tried to place his mind on something else. Sam may have been a girl by nature, but to Mark she was a (technically younger, by four months) brother, and guy's just don't feel that way towards their brothers, now do they?  
Lucky for Mark, he was saved from this situation when a voice came out over the speaker, announcing that the bus to Montgomery was now boarding. The pair picked themselves up, Sam slinging her sleeve back onto her shoulder and zipping her hoodie up a little, and headed outside, checking their tickets for the number.  
They found it without much trouble, and boarded reluctantly. As the bus pulled out of the station, they both silently wondered the same thing; if they'd ever see Detroit again... hell; if they'd ever see _anywhere_ again!

* * *

**Ryou - slash - Bakura's Wench **-- Thank you so much for being my first reviewer on this story! And don't worry about updates; I intend to finish it.

Next chapter; the friends make allies and enimies, and all in one night!


	5. Stranger

Chapter 05: Stranger

"_I am lost  
So I am cruel  
But I'd be love and sweetness  
If I had you…_"

- from "Milk" by _Garbage_

**S**everal hours passed by, laced only with the gentle hum of the motor... Sam took the window seat, and watched the night time landscape roll by drowsily. Mark nodded out after only a short time, resting his head on Sam's shoulder.  
Almost a foot of snow fell during their trip. Subtle bumps in the road shook the whole bus, but did not wake Mark. No light entered, except for moonlight and one small light up in front where a woman stayed up reading a book.  
Sam scanned the cabin, nervous around strangers after the event the night before with Dante. An elderly couple was in the back, whispering sweet nothings between them. Another street kid with many piercing -- an eyebrow, labret, and nose, to name a few -- in plaid and _Doc Martins_ grimaced out the window, even in his sleep. A younger woman, perhaps in her twenties, with a young child slept spread out over one whole joint seat, the woman in front, and that was the whole cabin.  
Sam eased her body, now, but kept her mind awake... she needed to be mentally prepared for what was ahead, and that meant not thinking rationally at any costs. Otherwise, she'd want to turn back; as if they had money to do that!  
They rolled out of the city, and into bleak highway territory. The lights of the city still shined bright behind them, with only darkness marred by the occasional street light ahead. It was so perfect it almost made Sam laugh! She resisted the urge though, for fear of going insane.  
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she remembered was feeling icy cold glass against her forehead. She opened her eyes to see the station sign slowly roll by as the turned the corner past it. She sat up and felt the bus slow...

"Welcome to Montgomery," the voice over the speaker boomed out so suddenly, especially for Sam's heavy, slowed brain functions. "All passengers for Montgomery please prepare to exit the bus."  
"Mark," she whispered, and looked down to find his head on her bosom. She shook him awake, repeating his name. "Mark... Mark, wake up, we're here."  
"Huh?" he groaned, sitting up and swatting away her hands to get her to stop shaking him.  
"We're here, y'know? Montgomery?"  
"Oh," he seemed to sober up quite suddenly. "Yeah... let's go."  
Everyone on the bus had stood up. Sam and Mark followed. The door opened, and the passengers littered out in an unorderly fashion. Some went straight to cars that were waiting for them, and others waited for their rides, and another few just wandered off into the night.  
Sam and Mark went up to a map that had been incorporated into a frame and hung on a wall. It was of Montgomery and surrounding towns. They traced their fingers over it, plotting out a path in which to take, talking it over, and then repeating it several times to each other once they had it set, before turning and prancing off into the night.  
It became apparent, after about an hour or so of walking, that there were no vampires in town. Thank god, they hadn't spread! A few insomniac human beings still strolled the streets, and a bar or two still had a few lonesome early morning customers. Two hours went by, the sun beginning to spread its first light in the east, and still no vampires.  
Three hours later, their legs aching desperately, they finally came to a sign reading, "WELCOME TO GATLIN". Sam froze before it for a moment, feelings flooding her like a hurricane crashing into the shore. Just beyond the sign, the railroad tracks she'd just stood... the railroad tracks that Emily had died beside.  
After a moment, Mark came up to her side and guided her away from the sign, along down the road. The sky was now a pale blue with the approaching morning. One would have guess that it was already about six...  
Before long, they got into the townie part of town. It looked the same as it had before, except completely and unavoidably bare... not a living, or unliving, thing stirred... it was totally silent, totally still; a barren waste land, a -- dare I say -- ghost town.  
Sam felt a deep sorrow to see her town the same as it was the last time she'd seen it, and yet completely demolished by an inner darkness. It would have been worse if she'd seen the Lot, where she grew up, where she was known, where she mattered to people... but it hurt altogether, to know that she did nothing to save her home.  
Well, she was back now, and she would make up for that. She would make the son of a bitch who started this pay! She would make them all pay, all their kind, until there was no more... at least now, she wasn't alone.  
After wandering aimlessly for some time, they came upon a convenience store that had been unlocked, the key still hanging on the hook beside the door. They took up refuge in their, locking the building, and rested for a time, having a bite to eat from packaged food that had been in isles, or on little stands.  
When they finished their small meal, they decided to obtain some much need rest. A few hours late, they awoke from their sleep to find that it was already afternoon. They were quick to get to work, finding wooden objects and breaking them, fashioning them into stakes as best they could. Mark, too, pocketed some lighters, and noted where they kept the gasoline canisters. He also yelled at Sam for pocketing a few packs of cigarettes, to which she smiled innocently and hid them behind her back.  
By evening, they had cleared a place on the floor where they kept their weapons packed together, and a place cleared to sleep beside it. As night drew closer, they felt their nerves whined tight, and conversation grow scarcer.  
Sam stood smoking at an open window, which faced the west, and watched the sun set ever so slowly, like it was teasing them. Night, finally, descended on Gatlin, and that was when the entire world lit up again. They heard crickets singing their songs in the grass, and the street lights still knew to come on.  
Even as she kept watch, Sam only witnessed a hand full of the undead, and they seemed to take no notice of the convenience store, or its living inhabitants.  
She and Mark both agreed that they would wait until morning to find the vampires hiding places and burn them alive while they slept. Tonight, there was nothing they could do but keep wary... though, even as the hour of twelve midnight passed away into another, a vampire had still not come to bother them... leaning against the counter, clutching each one stake in their hand, their eyes grew very heavy, and began to droop, and before two a.m came they were out... but not for long.

**S**am awoke with a start to the sound of a crash, and Mark, too, beside her; who clutched the stake in his hand so tight his knuckles turned white.  
Their eyes jerked to the source of the sound. A rack that had been holding bags of potato chips fell over... but what? Sam stood, very slowly so as not to make a sound, and inched to the wall, pawing for the light switch. She found it and, glancing back at Mark to make sure he'd gotten to his feet, she flicked it.  
The horrid sound of many shrill hisses bombarded their ears. They clasped their hands over them and opened their eyes to slits, blinded by the bright light... but no light was bright enough to blind them from the sight before them.  
Vampires! They'd destroyed the stakes Sam had made, they were swarming in from a back door they'd broken off its very hinges. There were at least five of them in the store at that time alone!  
One lunged at Sam, but she slammed the stake through its heart and it exploded in a blaze of ashes. Another came at her, and she stabbed it through the hand. It pulled the stake back and out of her grasp, ripping it out and turning it back on Sam.  
She screamed, but the vampire stopped short. As it decreased to ashes that crumbled to the ground at Sam's feet, she saw Mark standing behind where the vampire had been stake in hand. She didn't have time to thank him as another one was lunging at him while his back was turned. She tried to cry out, but it was too late!  
... When it stopped, just as before, and crumbled to ashes. Mark jerked around, subconsciously covering Sam protectively. The cause of the last vampire's demise, a man in his late twenties with choppy brown bangs and charcoal eyes and more then a fair share of stubble on his chin, was busy cutting down another, and then another.  
Sam and Mark were frozen in awe, watching the man battle these creatures so efficiently. He must have stayed behind in Gatlin since the infestation, because he clearly had experience in, and therefore knew, how to handle them.  
Although, he couldn't handle a dozen to one. As more began to pour in through the back way, he backed up and nudged Sam and Mark towards the door, shouting at them; "_Move, move, move!_"  
They did as the stranger told them to, backing out the door and into the cold night air. Breathing heavy, they looked around them in a panic, checking for vampires hiding outside to take them. They didn't see any too near by, so all that were after them must have already poured in through the back door.  
The stranger backed out now, and directed the kids towards a dark blue explorer. When they came to it, he began to order them to get in. They kid as they were told, in a breeze as the last thing they wanted was to be made one of those monsters, and the stranger jumped in the driver's seat.  
He started the explorer without trouble, and sped off into the night, swerving narrowly around corners for a few blocks, until they came to a large, brown Victorian house. He parked the car out front and took a breather, resting his head on the steering wheel.  
At length, he looked over his shoulder into the back seat. "You kids okay?"  
"Yeah, thanks to you," Sam replied. "We were getting our asses kicked, man! The fuckers swarmed us in our sleep..."  
"Never sleep around these parts without a watch," the stranger told them, scornfully. "... You know what they were, right?"  
"Vampires," Mark and Sam said in unison.  
The stranger nodded grimly, and then climbed out of the explorer. He opened their door, and said to them, "C'mon inside, its safe here."  
Mark and Sam exchanged a look, remembering the last time they'd accepted an invitation to stay with a strange man, but they knew they had no other choice... and this strange had, after all, saved their lives. Shrugging, they got out one after the other, and followed the strange up the steps and into the house.  
It looked like it could have been quite comfortable, once upon a time... a house where generations lived in peace together, in spacious and homey surroundings... but not anymore. Now, the pea-soup wallpaper was pealing, the beige walls underneath bore nicotine and water stains, the brown/earth-tones carpet was streaked with mud and appeared as if it had not been vacuumed in years, and every surface down to the scratched wooden banister of the steps leading to the upstairs was covered in a layer of dust.  
"Follow me," the stranger, a man of few words, told them and turned down the hall.  
He led them into a kitchen where the lights were on, to windows draped and buckled to prevent the light from being visible outside the house. Another man, younger, with the same light brown hair in a buzz cut and hazel eyes, sat the table with a drink of something. He raised his eyes upon their entry, and scanned the kids as if he were sizing them up.  
"Who are they?" Aw, another man of few words.  
The older stranger shrugged. "I found them hiding out in the convenience store in town... they know about _them_, even had little makeshift stakes."  
Sam smiled uneasily, as it was her who had put together the sharpened pieces of wood. The younger strange nodded, very slowly, before casting his eyes back down to the table where he traced shapes with his fingers. The older stranger turned around them, and looked at them with kindness and hospitality for the first time.  
"My name is Rider," he said. "This is Davis... we're the Pike brothers. We used to run Pike's Auto shop down town. Are you locals of Gatlin?"  
"I'm Sam Hennessy, this is Mark Petrie," the girl told him, gesturing lazily. "I used to live here; this is his first time visiting..."  
Rider nodded in understanding. "And are you the same Hennessy girl that got arrested for vandalizing public property earlier this year?"  
"_Busted_," she groaned. "And I would have gotten away with it, too; if it were for that pesky Jennifer Squall..."  
Davis, the younger brother, smirked. Rider remained in good humor. Mark already knew the story and of her probation thereafter, which had obviously been cut short as result of the vampiric infestation. "So... how, exactly, are the two of you related?"  
Sam opened her mouth to say, _"we're best friends"_, or, _"we grew up together"_, or something along those lines; but Mark jumped in before she had a chance, probably purposely.  
"We're brothers, too," he told Rider, to which Sam smiled and threw her arm around his shoulders, proudly.  
Rider offered a solemn nod, and then gave a deep sigh. "The hour is late... we shall all get a night's sleep, and fill in the new-comers in the morning. Come, I'll show you to your rooms..."

**T**he following morning snow was falling again, in heavy gasps at times; but the sky was growing lighter because of its releases. The kids, who had experienced quite rough days and nights for some time now, slept late in fluffy beds, on feather pillows, and under feather quilts... to spite the fact that crossed hung on every door and above every window, even in closets and tapped under beds. There was holy water on every nightstand and end table, and stakes in the drawers.  
As afternoon was growing near, and the snow was still blowing around in fussy breezes, the pair found their ways to consciousness, and then downstairs and in the kitchen to bowls of cereal. Davis had already been up, and was fashioning more stakes in the living room, to tell them that Rider had gone out earlier to search for the vampire's hiding place, as he did almost every day.  
They sat at the kitchen table and ate their breakfast, muttering things back and forth through full mouths, until the back door (which led straight into the kitchen) came slamming opened. They jumped and jerked around to see Rider come trudging in, swearing under his breath.  
He was angry because he hadn't been able to find any hiding place, he told Davis. They'd been at this for some time, and now the places were scarce... they estimated there was only two or three left, but they were certainly well hidden.  
After ranting to his younger brother, Rider calmed down. He remembered the kids and his duties, and came back into the kitchen, sitting down between them at the round table. Sighing, he began to fill them in as he promised...  
"August 28th, a man named T.K King moved to Gatlin, and after that four young women went missing in a matter of two days, and one girl's parents were found dead. Her father had suffered a heart-attack, and her mother severe and sudden anemia. The next day, her mother's body disappeared from the morgue. Another of those girls was my brother's fiancée... he got me into this, wanting to investigate. He knew it was King -- he's always had a kind of intuition like that -- so we snuck into his place, and found them within. The four girls, along with dozens of others, and King. We were foolish enough to sneak in as night was falling, and the creatures came alive. We were unprepared to fight them, but we escaped. When we came back, they were gone... by the night of September 10th, the entire town was infected. We've been fighting them ever since..."  
"King?" Sam echoed, when they were sure he was finally done. "T.K King?"  
"Yes," Rider confirmed. "We don't know who invited him, but we think it was--"  
"--Stephen Reeves..."  
"Y-yes, h-how did you know?" Rider stuttered in surprise.  
Sam's eyes were wide and staring sightlessly at her empty bowl, moving around as if trying to see. Her face was blank, maybe from an overload of shock. Mark, hesitantly, reach out to touch her shoulder, whispers; "_Hey_..."  
She smacked his hand away, startled, then apologized feverish, then resumed her mental malfunction, before raising her eyes to Rider. "I knew Stephen Reeves; he was a friend of-of my mom's... I knew about King, I mean; I knew that Stephen had invited him to stay with him for a while. He said King was _his uncle!_"  
"He had taken a trip to France earlier that summer," Rider reminded her. "That must have been where he met King, and King made him his familiar."  
"He committed suicide after all those girls disappeared," Sam clutched her eyes shut tight, fighting back tears. "I should have known!"  
"There's no way you could have--" Rider tried to comfort her, reached for her hand, but she pulled away, standing up so suddenly she almost knocked her chair over.  
"Don't... give me that," she choked out, her hands raised. "My _family_ is dead, my _friends_ are dead, because I couldn't put two and two together, and your god damn sympathy isn't going to bring them back so _save it_."  
On that note, she turned and left, walking out of the room at quite the pace. Mark watched her go helplessly, knowing better then to tamper with her when she gets like this... besides, he couldn't say that in the same situation he wouldn't have responded the similarly if not in the same way.  
"Has she always been this way?" Davis asked Mark from the doorway.  
"What?"  
"Has she always been so self-destructive?"  
Mark sighed, looking away. "No... after her parents divorced, she kinda became a walking time bomb. I guess she really cared about her dad, and she liked life back home; but her mom beat him in court and took her up here."  
"Divorce can do terrible things to children..."  
"Tell me about it," Mark rolled his eyes.  
"You, too?"  
"My dad left while I was still in diapers. I haven't seen him since... don't know where he is, don't care."  
Davis nodded sympathetically, and the three sat in heavy silence for a moment, before Rider spoke again. "... You better check on Sam. I wouldn't trust her alone, if I was you."  
"She wouldn't do anything stupid," Mark told him firmly. "She's tougher then that... toughest girl I know." But nonetheless, he stood from the table and went along in the direction Sam had left. He would her in a back room, sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest rocking back and forth, that had only a few cardboard boxes and plastic bags in it... some empty, some full.  
"_Damn it!_" she swore, kicking a smaller box. It tumbled a crossed the room and hit the wall, before easing to a stop. She was whipping tears from her eyes roughly, as if she couldn't stand to have them on her face.  
He stopped in the doorway, mournfully watching her grieve. He felt the same inside, and he knew it, but something just wasn't there; like he wasn't even real. He couldn't find it within himself to cry, and, after all this time, he didn't even know if he could anymore.  
He whispered her name, and she responded by picking up the first thing she felt next to her -- part of a broken glass figurine -- and hurling it at him. He jumped, and it hit the side of the door frame opposite him, shattering on contact. He jerked back around to look at her again. "_Leave me alone!_"  
"No," Mark breathed, and slowly, hesitantly, crept into the room. He knelt beside her, looking her in the same, his gaze unwavering. "Come on, Sam... you made it this far. If you give up now, you leave me here alone; I would never do that to you!"  
She sobbed, and then began to stand. "It's light out, okay? I'm going for a walk--"  
"--You can't, not alone," Mark jumped to his feet and grabbing her arm.  
She looked him in the eyes now, and her eyes were pink and red with irritation for her rubbing the tears away, but there was some sort of detachment there; some cold disconnection. "... I can take care of myself."  
She broke his hold and threw on her hoodie, walking right out the back door with a single look behind, leaving Mark exposed and alone.

* * *

**Ryou -** Thanks again for being the only reviewer, lol! I'm glad I was able to make you feel for the kids... means I did my job. As for Barlow, I'm sorry; he's not coming back, obviously... it just didn't fit the way I already had it planned. Believe it or not, I got the whole damn thingfigured out! Just gotta write it...

Next chapter; the team loses one of their own...


	6. Family

Chapter 06: Family

"_Tell me this is not the end  
You, my love, my oldest friend  
You put your faith in dreams that kill  
Lying with beauty, breath so still  
She couldn't be trusted, yeah_…"

- from "Julia" by _Fefe Dobson_

**W**alking through streets that had no been shoveled, flecks of snow stinging her face and her hands, Sam found her way back home. She found her way back to the house she'd shared with Terry and Greg, and, at times, Emily.  
Inside was almost as cold as out but she didn't care. She found her way straight to the cup board in which they'd kept their alcohol in. Even though it'd only been in their, it was chilled from the winter air. She got out a bottle of vodka, and twelve-pack of diet Pepsi, and a glass, and brought them back to the living room with her.  
She popped her favorite CD into the player next to the TV and heard it for the first time in months, almost laughing at how good the first note going through her felt. She poured herself a mixed glass of vodka and Pepsi, and then another, and then another, and another, and another, until she passed out on the couch where she'd been.  
Hours passed and day turned to night, and as the eyes of the undead woke with the dusk so did she.  
"_Sam_..." a voice called her name, startling her out of sleep. "... _Sam_..." she jerked to sit up, looking around herself frantically. She was at home, the bottle of vodka and empty cans of diet Pepsi still in front of her. "... _Sam_..." That voice, so familiar...  
_It can't be_, she thought; _I watched you die_...  
But low and behold, the figure entered the doorway. Her golden blonde hair, mused and shinning with an unnatural glow, was in a pony-tail much like Sam's. Her gray eyes had become nearly translucent, and seemed almost to glow in the dark. Her skin was as white as ivory, and the baby fat in her cheeks now seemed only to accent her high cheek bones. She was dressed in a clean black T-shirt and crisp blue jeans.  
Sam jumped to her feet and took a step back. Without realizing it, she whispered in disbelief; "_Emily?_"  
Emily smiled and nodded, locking eyes with her cousin. "That's right... glad to see you still remember me, after bailing out on me at the tracks."  
Sam shook her head, tears coming back to her eyes. The image of her cousin was blurry, as she was still quite drunk. "I'm so sorry, Em, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to, I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."  
Emily smiled sadly. "It's alright, Sammy; just invite me in and we'll talk about it, okay?"  
Sam rubbed her eyes, trying to make the image go clearer. It helped a little. She backed up, still sensible to remember that this town was filthy with vampires. "No... no, I can't! Mark said--"  
"--Oh, god, _Mark!_" Emily interrupted, throwing her hands up in the air. "You're always talking about Mark! Is he here with you now? I hope not..."  
"No," Sam shook her head. "He's not _here_ in the house, I mean... he's here in Gatlin with me, though. We came back... we came back to help you, Em!"  
"To hell you did!" Emily cried. "You guys don't know what you're missing! But, serious now... just let me in, okay? You know I love you. I won't touch you unless you want me to, I promise... just _invite me in_, Sam."  
Sam hesitated, her eyes going blurry again. She blinked it away, and finally agreed feverishly. "Okay... okay, you can come in."  
Emily smiled, before her faced contorted and she bared her fangs. Her hiss rang out like thunder through the room, and she lunged at Sam, grabbing the shorter girl by the arms. "You never learned better then to trust me, not even in life."  
Sam's head lopped back, drunkenly, and Emily prepared to go for the kill, biting into her jugular and turning her into one of them... until she felt an enormous pain in her chest, which stopped her from touching her cousin. She looked down to see the tip of a stake sticking out of her chest.  
Emily screamed, the sound of many voices all in her own; the voice before her of the fallen. She flew up to the ceiling, dropping Sam to the floor, and exploded into a firework display of ashes upon contact.  
Mark stood behind where she had been, his hands still posed as if they were holding the stake he had shoved through her body. It fell to the floor with a clankering sound. He ignored it and dropped to his knees beside Sam, shaking her by the shoulders.  
Her eyes blinked open, and rested upon his. She groaned, her throat very dry; "You saved me, didn't you?" Mark smiled a little, nodding. Sam, on the other-hand, rolled her eyes. "Great; now I have to _thank you_, don't I..."  
Mark sat for a moment, processing this. Sam Hennessy... saying 'thank you'. Well, that would be one for the books; but for now, he helped her to her feet. "Listen, we gotta hurry and get back before more of those things come out of their holes..."  
Sam rubbed her eyes again to reduce blurriness, but her high had mostly worn off now. She pulled her hair behind her ears as she asked, "Can I just... change my shirt real quick? I mean, as long as it's not stained with blood, I'm cool with it, so..."  
"Go," Mark waved her off, knowing that Sam wasn't like most girls. She'd never taken longer then ten minutes to get ready for anything in her life. She turned and ran up the stairs, and he shouted after her; "But be quick about it!"  
Mark bounced nervously in place, waiting for Sam to return. His eyes scanned the cozy living room slowly, and landed on the stake. He looked around him, as if to make sure no one was watching, and then went over and grabbed it, quickly.

**W**hen they walked through the door, Rider was waiting for them. As they turned the corner into the living room, Rider jumped out and grabbed Sam by the neck, slamming her into the wall.  
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Rider shouted, ignoring Mark, who was crying; "_Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!_", in the background.  
She didn't answer, looking back at him with empty eyes; her face was expressionless, melancholy, as if she'd heard it all before. She remained ordinarily still beneath his grasp, her breathing regular.  
"You could have gotten yourself and him--" he gestured to Mark. "--killed!"  
"Let her go, Rider!"  
"You're drunk, aren't you? I can smell the alcohol on your, you little bitch!" Mark tried to pry Rider's arm off of Sam, but Rider just used his other arm to push him away, sending him tumbling back. "You endangered human lives for a god damn _drink!_"  
He haled back and punched Sam's cheek, letting her go and drop down on the edge of the couch, sliding down the wall with her back to it, she remained apathetic. Rider crouched before her, sneering. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"  
"Yeah," she finally spoke, and like a bolt of lightning her fist shot foreword and contacted with his lip, the pressure causing it to burst and squirt blood. His head turned to the side, and she spoke again. "You left yourself open... don't let me catch you like that when it's game time."  
Rider was too stunned to move or speak. Sam stood up and walked away, turning back in the hall and up the old stairs to her room. Mark smirked proudly and patted Rider on the back. "I warned you, pal," he said, turning the corner and following his friend up the stairs and to his room, as well.

**L**ate afternoon of the next day, and Mark and Sam would find themselves sitting on the floor in the living play _War_ (the card game); Sam in the new shirt she'd taken from her house; an aquatic green fitted tee with dull blue layered-effect sleeves. They'd been at it for a good hour now, when Rider came bursting through the back door as usual.  
"I found one!" he declared as he entered the living room, and Davis stood up from the couch where he'd been watching the kids play. "I found one of the final two hide-outs!"  
"Wait," Sam interrupted. "You're sure it's _two_ now?"  
"Positive," Rider told her. "And this one is the largest... the other is King's private hide-out, which the bastard always seems to move as soon as we come close to it!"  
"So, uh… when do we strike?" Mark asked absently, eyeing the clock.  
"As soon as I can get the things together..."  
It seemed that, for Rider, it took an hour, tops, to find enough stakes, and a cross and bottle of holy water for each of them. The crosses were rosaries he'd taken from the church after the priests had skipped town, which were convenient to hang around one's neck. They were all beaded with tiny precious stones; Sam's of rubies, Mark's of sapphires, Davis's of emeralds, and Rider's of pearls. At only four O'clock, with two hours to spare before evening would begin to drop, they set out...  
The ride over there was about a half an hour, give or take a few; as it was on the opposite end of town. At length, they pulled over in front of a large cobble stone buildings. A white board sign of the front of it read, "MAPLE LAUNDRY MAT", in fancy red letters. The sign in the door announced that the mat was closed, as it probably had been since the vampires got old Vivian and William Maple.  
_Vivian was so nice_, Sam thought sadly, remembering that Terry used to do their laundry there, and sometimes she'd take Sam with her; and sometimes, Greg, too... and Sam would have to sit and watch him kiss all over her mother, her stomach boiling with repressed hatred for this man that was supposed to replace her father.  
She shook the thoughts away and followed the others outside the car and around side the building. The ground was smushy beneath there feet, as a light rain earlier that afternoon had turned some snow to sludge. On the side of the building, they found a basement window that had been kicked out. Rider dropped down inside, and helped the younger two down first so they didn't slip of get hurt from the fall. Davis followed last.  
They went to work, slowly scanning the basement area, then searching for vampires and their hiding places. They hit the ones that were just lying among the ground first, which was quite a slew of them, and took quite some time staking them one by one. As they had almost cleared the floor and begun the search within possible hiding place, a familiar sound startled them.  
A hiss from the inside of a closet door, and then two more from under a table in a corner. Mark's eyes shot to the window through which they'd crawled in. Shit! The light was fading fast. The closet door began to open, a set of moist hands beginning to reach outside. Davis slammed the door shut, causing the creature to cry out... too bad that just aroused more of the.  
"Head for the window!" Davis cried, and the others did as he said.  
Rider hoisted the kids up one by one so that they could get out more easily, snaking along the iced ground just outside and into the gravel drive. When they were both standing outside, breathing heavy in the icy air where the frozen rain had begun to fall again, Rider turned and cried to Davis, "_Come on!_"  
The vampires were inching their way closer to Davis, licking their chops. "You first!"  
Rider shook his head at his reckless, and stubborn, brother, but did as he was told, understanding that Davis had to play the hero and would stop until he had. When Rider was outside once more, he knelt before it and called to his brother again.  
Davis, shakily, yet the door go and ran over to the window... but as her snuck his hands outside of it, the vampire that had been in the closet flew to him, faster then the human eyes could see. Davis cried out as the thing stuck it's fangs into his neck.  
"_NO!_" Rider cried, slamming on the window sill. "_Davis__DAVIS_"  
But Davis was waning, his eyes rolling back in his head. In a shrill hoarse whisper, he spoke his last request; "Burn it... to... the ground..."  
The vampire pulled Davis done underneath the window then, and the others crowded around. The sounds of tarring and slurping were evident, even to where the kids stood.  
Rider stood up, tears in his eyes and his jaw clenched; he walked back to the explorer and crawled into the back, pulling out a red can of gas labeled "emergency". He came back, screwed the cap off, and pour it into the basement window. It poured all over the vampires and their meal, but they didn't seem to notice. He screwed the cap back on, and threw it away harshly.  
Behind him the kids, huddled together against the cold with their hoods pulled up over their heads, shuddered at the sudden violence in him, but they dared not more or do or say a thing. Let him tred his path, and his anger would not be taken out on them... they hoped.  
He went back to the truck again, and grabbed a pack of matches off the dashboard. Curving around them, he lit one, but the wind blew it out. He cursed and lit another, and it stayed lit, until he brought it to the window.  
He punched the stone so hard it drew blood on his knuckles, but didn't even seem to notice. If he felt any _psychical_ pain, he didn't show it. He tried again to light a match, this time inside the building, and it worked. He dropped it atop the vampires, and they exploded in a burst of flames.  
The screams were terrible; so many and so loud and so shrill that Sam and Mark had to slam their hands over their ears, and even that didn't block it out. They retched in pain, but still stayed huddled together. Rider came towards them and, even though their eyes were shut, pushed them back towards and into the back seat of the explorer.  
He slammed their door, jumped in the front seat, and drove away; speeding as always.

**B**ack at the Victorian house, Rider slammed his fists into the wall and laid his forehead against it, beginning to cry. Sam and Mark stood very still and silent, emotions mixed but understand altogether. They knew only to let him mourn...  
"Why?" Rider sobbed. "Why Davis? My younger brother; my only brother! Why couldn't it have been me? I was supposed to protect him! He wore the emeralds; I gave him the stone of _life!_ And he died... he died here tonight, before my watching eyes!"  
Rider turned then and left them, slumping up the steps, his tears the only thing that followed him. He went into his room, slamming the door behind him, and threw himself on the bed. His sobs could be heard all through the night...

* * *

I added lyrics to the chapters, if anyone cares... it's a habit. You can go back and read 'em or just keep going foreward; doesn't matter.

**Ryou -** Well, I suppose this chapter in itself answers your first question. Yes, the Stephen King name mix up was on purpose... what? I wasn't feeling very creative that night! As for the "father" question, nope... that would be simply too easy! Not to mention kind of a long-shot... and here I am writing about vampires and talking about long-shots 0.0 I've lost it... but anywho! Thank you again for reviewing! Much, much, much love...

Next chapter; a revelation to make or break their mission...


	7. Trouble

Chapter 07: Trouble

"When he calls me kitten  
bonny kitten in the middle of the night  
I say yes, yes what is it my life?  
He says nothing, not really  
for the angels I wait  
the angels that took you  
the angels are late..."

- from "When He Calls Me Kitten" by _The Kelley Deal 6000_

**W**eeks passed, and Rider never left his room. At first, Sam and Mark understood, leaving him alone except for when they brought him food and drink; but after awhile they began to grow nervous. King may have been the only vampire left, but the more time they gave him the more likely his making of more, or even skipping town, became.  
Finally, one day, while bringing Rider some food; Sam cracked. "Do you even care if the rest of the world gets infected?"  
"My brother is gone," Rider groaned, leaving his face berried in his pillow. "What have I to care for?"  
"For everyone else's brothers!" She sneered in disgust. "Look, chum, I know you're hurtin', but so am I, and so is Mark; but you don't see us giving up now do ya?"  
"You're young... you must have something left to fight for... not so for me."  
"No, Rider, we don't! You complain because you watched _your brother_ die. For goddess's sake, Mark watched one of them twist his mother's neck completely around; the only family he had! He's alone in the world now, beside me and a crazy aunt he can't live with anyway!"  
"Then he understands... Why do you think he is not in here yelling at me? You know nothing; you're just a woman."  
"Don't even start to give me that bull shit! So fuckin' what if I have a vagina instead of a penis? Newsflash; that doesn't change my damned species, you misogynistic prick! And yeah, I know exactly what you're going through. My cousin, the only family member I actually _liked_, died right before my eyes to save me, and then I had to watch her get staked. I watched her die _twice!_ Then I got to Detroit to find out my dad, the only other person I had left, had been killed by the filth back in the Lot! So don't fucking tell me I don't know!"  
Sam was dangerous close to screaming now, but Rider remained unchanged; too depressed to care about anything at all. He simply wanted to be dead, instead of Davis... but nothing would ever bring Davis back, so nothing would ever help him.  
"Your words hold no meaning, nothing but spite... your kind are heartless--"  
"--Again with the woman bullshit! You know what? Fuck you! You don't even really care about Davis, you just pity yourself! You're upset with yourself because _you_ couldn't save him! Well, guess what; he died to save you! Why in hell aren't you going to do anything about it?"  
"It doesn't make any difference," Rider rolled over. "Let them come for me, let them kill me... then I can be with him again... then I can tell him how sorry I am..."  
"God, you're only thinking about yourself!" Sam turned away, too repulsed to even look at him anymore. "Look, you may not give a shit anymore, but Mark and I do. So you can choose to help us find him or not--"  
"--I already know where he is."  
"_Excuse me?_"  
"It was in Stephen's suicide note," Rider opened a drawer, pulling a folded piece of paper out and handing it to her. "Read the first letters all in sequence..."  
She unfolded it feverishly. They were all circled in red, spelling out "O-U-R-P-L-A-C-E-D-E-C-E-M-B-E-R-2-7". She gasped, and put the pieces of the puzzle together, thinking aloud; "Our place December 27th. That's today!"  
"He'll come for me," Rider smirked. "After that, I know he will... I know he will..."  
"You son of a bitch!" she growled. "You were holding this back all along?"  
"It doesn't matter--"  
"--Yes, yes it does."  
"Not anymore," Rider rolled over, pulling the blankets up to his chin again. "Go away now... I want to get some rest before he comes, so that I look nice when I see Davis again. _Shew, shew_, now; _shew, shew_..."

**S**am flew around the corner, into the living room, stopping only for a second to look for Mark. She spotted him, sitting and staring at the rosary in his hand. She ran jump to him and began speaking in a hurried voice.  
"Mark! Rider's gone crazy!"  
"You talked to him?"  
"Yeah, didn't you hear the shouting?"  
"That might explain it..."  
"Whatever, look at this," she shoved the paper at him. He took it and flipped it around until it was right side up before him. "It's Stephen's suicide note, but look at the first letters... 'Our place December 27'. Mark, he's referring to King! He must have known that King was gonna come back, so he put the message in there incase anyone would have the eye to look!"  
"But that's tonight," Mark thought aloud, before looking up at Sam suspiciously. "... You're thinking we should go alone, aren't you?"  
Sam nodded eagerly. "We can't let him live, and Rider's not gonna help us anyway! We don't have a choice, Mark... it's now or never."  
"We could die," Mark figured aloud, but nodded slowly nonetheless. "Alright, just... get the shit together; we'll leave as soon as possible."  
"You can't say a word to Rider," Sam warned him. "He thinks King is gonna be his savior, which is a bloody _crock!_ But if he knows we're going, he'll try to stop us."  
"Yeah," Mark agreed, and watched her scurry off to grab some stakes. "This sucks..."  
A few minutes later, she came back. They threw on their coats and Sam threw her hair up in a pony-tail, before creeping out the door, careful not to make a sound. The weather that day was lightly better, with a pale blue sky and warmthless sun; so the trudge down town and then up the hill to King's house wasn't so terrible.  
Sam knew where it was because it had been Stephen's before. They stood before it, gazing up at the large, fine building. The nice houses of Gatlin were all along this street, with spacious yards; although Stephen's was beginning to age, the wood dulling to a dank color, with water damage to the porch and inner walls.  
"Rider told me before that they'd checked the basement of this house a few times," Sam said, looking to Mark. "I think the catch to it is he's in the attic..."  
"Why the attic?" Mark asked, running a hand through his auburn hair.  
"Because," she stated, matter-of-factly. "It's the polar opposite."  
"Whatever Suddenly Smarty-pants; let's just get this over with." He stepped onto the first step, and then onto the porch. Sam followed.  
They stood before the door, and were surprised to find it unlocked. It slipped open at the turn of the knob. They exchanged a look, but dare not say a word now. They went inside and scanned their surroundings. Sam had only been inside of it once of twice, so the layout was fuzzy...  
She touched Mark's shoulder to get his attention and gestured towards the stairs. He nodded and followed her up. At the top, they again looked around. Mark spotted a string hanging for the ceiling. He went over to it, and pulled on it, and a set of latter-like stairs fell out, making loud creaking sounds, and then a loud _thud_ when it contacted with the floor.  
The pair cringed and remained very still for several minutes, but no sound followed. Finally, they breathed a sigh, and then climbed up. Within there was one small window in a corner, and tons of old, moldy junk on either side... but, in the center of the room; the jackpot! A polished wooden coffin, painted black as ebony.  
Mark rushed to the one circular window, pulling the nailed down boards off it with effort, bracing himself with his foot against the wall. They could hear it splinter and wheeze in the process of a series of sharp tugs. Sam smiled and went right over to the sarcophagus.  
"Wait," Mark warned in a whisper, looking over his shoulder. "We gotta move it into light; help me move it into the light."  
Sam grabbed the back end and Mark grabbed the front. It was surprisingly heavy, but they managed. It created a thick dragging sound against the floor, leaving marks in the dust, but they ignored it. Letting it go they stepped back, breathing heavy; from nerves or some effect unknown.  
"You ready?" Mark breathed, looking at her.  
She nodded without a second's thought, and they came to the side of the coffin. They lifted the lid and threw it aside, making _yet another_ loud noise. Sam picked up a stake from where they'd left the pile on the floor, and came back.  
Her heart thudding loudly in her ears, she looked down into his face. He had a strong jaw, salt and pepper hair combed back, and silver eyes... wait; his eyes were opened. She forced herself not to look at them, even going so far as to close her own. Mark, beside her, already knew better then to look into their eyes, or look much at them at all.  
She held the stake up, taking in a breath, and thought; _I can do this_..._ just slam it down; you'll hit the heart, old girl_..._ then it'll all be over_..._ all over, all over, all over, all over_...  
She lifted it up high, but just as she was about to send it crashing down she realized she was falling, and then felt her body hit the floor hard. She opened her eyes. The stake lay broken beside her. She looked up to see a figure, black against the light, whack Mark in the head with something, knocking him all cold.  
The figure seemed to look at her then, and walked towards her. He leaned down, and came into the darkness, and she could see his face. She gasped; "Stephen?"  
He smiled menacingly, "In the flesh!"  
She gawked at him open-mouthed, but had no time to say or do anything before he hit her outside the head with the same object, sending her spiraling down into heavy darkness.

**"R**ider? Rider, open your eyes..."  
_He did as he was told, and found himself lying face-up in tall grass. He sat up and looked around himself... a little white farm house stood a few yards away from him, and a large tree on the opposite side of him with a long, wooden swing hanging from it.  
This was where he and Davis had lived as children... and low and behold, on the swing, he saw his brother, dressed in clean white shirt and pants. Davis smiled, and waved, beckoning his brother over without speaking.  
Again, Rider obeyed; sitting beside his brother on the swing. Davis was obviously happy to see him, but there seemed certain sadness in his eyes. "They're in trouble, you know..."  
"Who?" Rider asked, tipping his head to the side.  
"The kids, Sam and Mark," Davis told him, as if he should have known that. "They left without you."  
"They wouldn't be that foolish--"  
"--They already have been."  
"Well then I have to stop them! I can't let them kill King!"  
Davis shook his head. "That's not why I brought you here..."  
"Then why?"  
"You have to remember what we were fighting for," Davis took his brother's hand, looking him dead in the eyes. "We wanted to help people, Rider! That's what we set out to do! We stayed behind to destroy these things -because- we wanted to make sure nobody -else- got hurt. You've forgotten that..."  
Tears leapt into Rider's eyes. "I just miss you so much!"  
"I know, I know... but it was my time. It's not yours yet, and it's not theirs. Those kids -need you!- The whole world needs you, bro... because if you don't stop him, his kind will spread. It'll become a world-wide epidemic, instead of two small towns in America! You gotta finish what we started... -for me-..."  
Rider nodded. "You're right... I did forget... we can't-- I can't let them continue," he turned to his younger brother now, grabbing his hand. "I'll do it for you, Davey; I'll do it! But where are the kids? Do you know? Help me out, okay?"  
"The kids are in the basement. Be wary, though... there's a living man in the house, Stephen Reeves, and he'll try to kill you. I know! You thought he was dead, but he's not. You have to kill him... he's King's servant. King is very old, and has the power of premonition... he knew those two were going to kill him, knew it for a -fact!- That's why he had Stephen fake his death; to lure the kids into a trap with that note."  
"Will I ever see you again, Davis?"  
Davis nodded. "But you have to go as it is... it's my time to go on, now; and you have to save Sam and Mark. Hurry, Rider; hurry!"_  
Rider awoke with a start. He threw his eyes around the room. It was dark out, now... Just a dream? After all he'd seen, he thought not. He jumped out of bed, and went to work.

* * *

Next chapter; is it too late for Mark and Sam? Cananyone stop King? Press on, my children, press on... 


	8. Ashes

Chapter 08: Ashes

"_Running away and hiding with you  
I never thought they'd get me here  
Not knowing you changed from just one bite  
I fought them all off just to hold you close and tight_…"

- from "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville" by _My Chemical Romance_

**T**he first thing Mark could remember was sound of water dripping.  
He opened his eyes, and saw blackness above his head, that slowly came out of the blur to be a hard wood floor from underneath, like when one is in a basement... wait... a basement? The events leading up came back to him, of going to kill King, and then being struck outside the head by a strange man; probably King's familiar.  
He sat up in a rush and looked around him. Yes, definitely a basement... but there was a thing like a large casket made of stone, perhaps right into the cement of the cellar floor. The pipe that dripped was off in a corner, but -- as apposed to the Marsten house -- the floor in this basement was rather dry, dusty infact, and cold.  
He looked next to him, and saw Sam still lying there. He lifted her into a sitting position, and tapped her cheeks until she came through. She grumbled something he couldn't make out, and then sat straight up very suddenly, her eyes jerking back and forth frantically. At length, she gave a frustrated sigh and fell back against the wall.  
"How much you wanna bet the cellar door's locked?" Mark asked, leaning over her to peer at it through the darkness.  
"A lot," Sam replied glumly.  
Mark sat back again, sighing. "... So what now? We wait for King to come and kill us?"  
"Pretty much..."  
"Oh _yippy_..." There was a long moment of silence, with only the sound of the water dripping to rub their nerves in all the wrong ways, before Mark spoke again. "... Just for the record, this was your idea."  
"Shut up," Sam moaned, turning her head to the other side. Then she looked up again, and seemed to be staring something in the distance. Mark followed her gaze. A basement window. "Oh shit... it's dark out."  
"Well, at least we won't be waiting long," Mark voiced, narrowing his eyes.  
"I didn't want to hear that," Sam said, turning her head to look at him.  
He turned his to look back. "I know, I just don't care."  
"Jerk..."  
"Bitch..."  
"Prick..."  
"Slut..."  
"Fag..."  
"Dyke..."  
"Skank..."  
"Freak..."  
"Jack-off..."  
At that moment, in a spur, Mark leaned over and kissed Sam; much to her surprise. Much to his surprise, when the shock wore off, she began to kiss him back. He slipped a head behind her head, cradling it, and went with the flow. The kiss was long and passionate, their tongues swimming together in either's mouth, until Mark finally ended it, sitting back again.  
"... I just didn't want to never have done that," Mark said, answering her unspoken question. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, to spite how hard he tried to choke it down.  
"You still lose," she said, smiling. She leaned over and kissed him again. This kiss was shorter, but no less loving. When it was over, they were still left nose-to-nose.  
"Imminent death: $0. To die knowing you won the stupid game: Priceless."  
"We're not gonna die," she argued. "Not here... not now... not after all we've been through..."  
But the door at the top of the stairs was being opening; they heard the key twitching around inside of it, the lock clicking, and then the hinges creaking with movement. They swallowed hard as they eyed it, a figured standing in it; to big to be Stephen, who was about as skinny as they come. He slumped down the stairs, and as he came into the dim light of the basement, they saw that it was King.

Sam covered Mark with her body protectively, and Mark was too petrified to notice as the powerful vampire stood before them where they were huddled like rats in a basement corner. King smirked, and said; "Well, I can see which one of you wants to die first!"  
He grabbed Sam up by her neck, and lifted her very feet off the ground. Mark cried out, stumbling to his feet but still leaning against the wall. He felt helpless and small, and that was more then mildly frustrating to him; but he knew he had to keep a level head.  
"I'm so glad you two fell into my little trap," he said as he carried Sam over to the stone coffin, and set her leaned over it backwards, holding her by the throat to it. Her hands were wrapped around his wrist, trying to paw it off her; but it seemed he couldn't even feel it at all. "I think Stephen put on an excellent show..."  
"W-what are you talking about?" Mark jumped in quickly, trying to distract King from hurting her.  
King looked up and back at the boy, the movement so quick that the human eye could never catch it. "Oh, you mean you don't know?"  
Mark shook his head, breathing sharp and quick from fear through his nose.  
"I'm very old, child," King told him, tipping his head to the side. "Very, very old... and, when one grows as old as I am, we start to develop powers. My power is that of premonition. _I saw you and your girlfriend here killing me_... as you can imagine, I simply couldn't let that happen! So I had Stephen fake his death and leave you that little note so that you would come here tonight, and he would be waiting for you. Darling boy, isn't he?"  
"Yeah, w-whatever," Mark said, too frightened to care, but not too frightened to be rude. His eyes were locked on Sam. "What are you gonna d-do to us?  
"Isn't it obvious?" King smiled. "I'm going to kill you!"  
A shudder passed through Mark, like a bolt of lightning, a spasm; it shook him. He remained pressed in the corner.  
King rolled his eyes. "You humans... scare so easily! It's not _that bad_... I won't be eating your flesh or anything; that's for the lower vampires. I'll drink you blood and help you both become one of us, and if you fail me I'll kill you for real."  
"You can't be serious..."  
"Oh! But I am; I'll show you!" Before Mark had a chance to protest, King curled a finger inside Sam's lip ring and ripped it from her face. She cried out in pain, she was actually shrill and breathy as King was nearly crushing her throat.  
King smiled, dropping the golden captive -- still with a tiny bit of flesh attached to it -- to the floor. A thin river of blood had formed down Sam's chin. He leaned down and licked it up, smacking his lips together as he tasted it. "Oooh, you taste delicious..."  
Level-heads out the window, Mark lost it. He ran at King and attempted to tackle him, but the vampire got him, and spun him around and under his arm. He pinned Mark's arms to his body, and pinned Mark's body to his own. Grinning, he said; "And I though she was the lucky volunteer... oh well; she'll just have to watch."  
His lip curled up and his fangs shown, glowing bright under the moonlight that spilled in through the windows and the pale golden light of the one bulb lit in a corner. He prepared to chomp down on Mark's neck, but instead threw his head back.  
He let go of both of the kids and jerked around. Mark fell to the floor and his hands and knees. Sam remained lying there, coughing and gasping air. Mark pulled himself back together and jumped up, jerking around, to see Rider.  
Rider had come to their rescue! Unbelievable! But before their eyes, he battled King... with a sword... which was weird... but nonetheless; he swiped and cut the vampire's arm off. King reached to bite him but Rider dodged and sliced his other arm. King screamed and jumped behind him, but Rider swung around and cut both of his legs off.  
King's head and torso tumbled to the ground, and they could hear him hissing and coughing. Mark and Sam -- who had sat up at some time during the fight -- stood and made their way a crossed the room and to Rider's side, peering down at the disabled vampire. King looked up at them with eyes wide and frightened, his tongue snaking in and out of his mouth slowly, his limbs still squirming upon the floor.  
"Did you get Stephen?" Sam asked Rider casually.  
Rider nodded. "Slit his throat."  
"I didn't know you had a sword..."  
"Davis collected them," Rider told her, not taking his eyes off King. "This one was his favorite..."  
Sam smiled. "I'm sure he'd be proud to know that it was used in taking down King..."  
"Um, guys," Mark interrupted. "This is all nice and everything, but shouldn't we, y'know, _stake him_ now?"  
Sam rolled her eyes. Rider threw the sword aside, and pulled a stake out from his belt, he approached King and positioned it over his heart, but as he was about to bring it down, Sam cried out for him to wait. He stopped and watched her come foreword to the other side of King.  
"You and your kind ruined everything for me," she told him, and wrapped her hands around the stake as well.  
Mark, too, came over then, and stood above King, his feet on either side of the vampire's waste. He wrapped his hands around the stake, too. "... And me."  
"And me," Rider agreed, tightening his hold on the wooden instrument. He looked at the kids and nodded, and they nodded back. "1..."  
"... 2..." Sam continued.  
"... 3," Mark finished.  
With all their might, in unison, they raised it up, and brought it down into his chest, crushing and piercing his heart beneath it. King cried out, wrangling beneath them, and many voices began to mix with his own, all the voices of those who had been him before, and his face flashed with many faces, and his body of many heights and widths, and his clothes of many different ages; but all in all, he ended on himself, screaming like a child; and exploded into the ceiling, raining sparkling blue ashes down among all three of them.

* * *

I haven't gotten any reviews for the last two chapters... wah! Nobody loves me ( BUT NONETHELESS! This one's actually my favorite chapter. I thought Mark was most in-character for it... plus; it was all good fun. Then again, the climax is always fun (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more)...

Next chapter; the epologue...


	9. Epilogue

Chapter 09: Epilogue

"_As we crawl up the stairs  
Grabbing everything falling down  
We rip the shades to see the light  
Finding hope in broken life_…"

- from "Ashaka Rock" by _The Early November_

**T**he next morning, Mark and Sam found that Rider was gone. He left them a note saying that he had gone to Missouri to see his cousin; a woman who had recently given birth to a baby girl, and named her Emily.  
They stayed in the Victorian house for another few days, but they were running out of food and bottled water; and they knew this was no way to live life. They couldn't stay in a ghost town grubbing off canned goods forever; so they got their shit together and set out.  
The only place they could think of going, that they could really reach on foot, was Montgomery. They got their by evening, and slept in the park behind bushes. The next morning, bored and with no where to go, they went back to the bus station, to sit on the benches and just hang out... maybe they'd meet somebody they knew there.  
Mark had gone off to use the bathroom, when a miracle happened. Sam felt her pocket vibrating. She reached in it and pulled out a cell phone; she'd forgotten she'd taken that from her house... but who had the number? No one that was alive, certainly...  
Nonetheless, she popped the top (it was a flip phone) and put it to her ear. "H-hello?"  
"Samantha Hennessey?" An unfamiliar voice on the opposite end of the line.  
"Yeah, who are you?"  
"My name is Meagan White, I'm with the Detroit City Homeless Center," the woman, Meagan, answered. Her voice was very scratchy, like someone who'd smoked cigarettes for too long. "I'm with a mister Ben Mears... he says he knows you."  
"Ben Mears?" Sam echoed. "But that's impossible!"  
"He's got I.D," Meagan answered, as if that was supposed to comfort Sam.  
"Put him on!" A click, then a man's voice saying her name. "Yeah... look, tell me something only Ben Mears would know."  
"What?"  
"Just tell me, okay; I gotta make sure it's you!  
There was a silence for a moment, and then he answered. "I asked Mark if I could adopt him at a rest stop on October 9th of this year. We were eating hamburgers and fries. Mark picked the tomatoes off his hamburger because he doesn't like tomatoes."  
"_Ben!_" Sam gasped. "It really is you! Where are you? Why didn't you contact us earlier?"  
"I just got out of the hospital," he replied. "I was in a short coma... but I'm fine now."  
"Why aren't you in jail?"  
"Well, after Father Callahan died, there was no plaintiff, and his family didn't want to press charges. They just wanted a peaceful funeral, no trial; so they had to let me go."  
"Where are you?" She asked, at length. "Are you coming to get us?"  
Ben laughed, warmly. "I'm in Detroit still. I told you, they just let me out today! But, yes; I'm having some money wired to me from New York, and then I'll come and pick you guys up, if you'd be so kind as to tell me where you are..."  
"Greyhound bus station in Montgomery," she replied, overjoyed. "Please hurry!"  
"I will," he replied, and hung up.  
As if on que, Mark came back. He didn't see her put away her cell phone, didn't have any idea of the call. He flopped down beside her on the bench and offered a weak smile, before asking; "So where to you want to go now?"  
Sam smiled, mysteriously. "I think I wanna stay here for a while..."  
"What? Here in Montgomery?"  
"No," she laid her head on his shoulder. "Right here, on this very bench..."  
"Okay," he said, easing back against the bench. "But if you get bored, don't blame me..."  
"I won't," she promised.

**T**hey waited there until night, when a man kicked them off the property. They went and slept again in the park, and returned the bench the next morning... by eleven a.m, a car came rolling into the bus station from outside of town, as strange as that must have seemed... but, out of it stepped Ben Mears, alive and well.  
"Ben!" Mark cried, jumping to his feet and running up to embrace the man. Ben laughed and hugged the younger male back. Mark had begun to cry, discovering that it was not as he feared and he could still do so, even if they were tears of joy... "But how? I watched you die!"  
"They brought me back," Ben replied simply. "And got me into surgery at _six in the morning_... fixed my spleen, believed it or not. They were able to cauterize the wound before I lost too much blood, and before the damage became irreversible... but yes; it was very touch and go. I could have very well died."  
Mark shuddered at the thought, and clutched Ben tighter. Of course, he asked the writer why he was not in jail; who gave Mark the same answer he'd given Sam over the phone. Sam, who was standing on the side lines, watched the touching scene.  
"Do you still want me to come live with you?" Mark asked, looking up at Ben hesitantly, afraid that he would say no. But Ben nodded, bringing joy to Mark's heart... that's when Sam realized, she was alone, now. Ben was taking Mark, and she'd have no where to go... until, Ben raised his head.  
"Have you got a place, Sam? Any relative?"  
"They were all in the Lot and in Gatlin," Sam answered, as they would later explain the events of Gatlin to Ben. "Now they're all dead..."  
Ben smiled. "You can come with us, too; if you'd like."  
Sam smiled, too. Her heart swelled, and she ran over and threw her arms around Ben, too; leaving them in a big old group hug. Ben laughed, and led them back to the car he'd rented, and then back to Detroit from there, where they would take a plane to New York City, and never see another vampire again as long as any of them lived...

THE END

* * *

Wee! Happy/supremely cheesy ending! But, hell, Ben didn't die in the book! So why should he die in the movie? It's just not fair to Mark... _so_, I rewrited Hollywood's wrongs. Take whatever from it you like...

ANYWHO! Thanks to Ryou for being the... only... reveiewer! But not the point... I write my stories for my own enjoyment, and post them for anyone else's benefit, anyone who fight find them as amusing as I do. So _nah!_ But thanks again, Ryou, you rock. And thanks to anyone else who will read this is the future...

Sincerly, whatserface


End file.
